


An Imladris Tale

by celedan



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Family Reunion, First Time, Idiots in Love, Kidnapped by Orcs, Kidnapping, M/M, Matchmaking, Mirkwood, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Orcs, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24179416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celedan/pseuds/celedan
Summary: Haldir is in love with Elrond, but doesn't think he has a chance with the Lord of Imladris. Because of his friends' and brothers' matchmaking, he and Elrond spend the night together. But it's only a physical attraction, right? Before any of them can talk about their real feelings, orcs invade Imladris, and kidnap Elrond.
Relationships: Elladan/Orophin (Tolkien), Elrohir/Rúmil, Elrond Peredhel/Haldir of Lothlórien, Erestor/Glorfindel (Tolkien)
Kudos: 21





	An Imladris Tale

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [An Imladris Tale - German](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16590500) by [celedan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celedan/pseuds/celedan). 



> Sorry for any spelling mistakes, my damn spellchecker doesn't work. Also, sorry if some passages may be a bit bumpy. I translated this fic from the German version I wrote ages ago, and, actually, translating something is way more complicated than simply writing it in English in the first place.  
> That being said, have fun reading

“Thank you, Haldir. Put the reports over there.” With a nod of his head, Celeborn pointed to a unoccupied corner of his desk, and rose. “Come here. I would like to talk to you.”

Surprised, Haldir looked up, and followed his lord over to the small seating corner in Celeborn's office, seating himself hesitantly.

Outright, Celeborn got to the point. “I want you to tell me what is grieving you.”

The younger elf stared at Celeborn in confusion, and waved his hand dismissively. “Grieving, Mylord? I'm fine.” 

“No.” Thoughtfully, Celeborn shook his head. “Ever since you've returned from Imladris, you seem to be... sad, downcast.”

“Please believe me, Mylord. It is nothing.”

Sighing, Celeborn leaned forward, and grasped his Captain's suddenly nervously trembling hands. “Haldir... I'm not talking to you as your lord but as your father.”

With gentle pressure, Haldir freed his hands from Celeborn's grasp, and instead hid his face within them. “Please, don't ask,” he whispered.

With a compassionate gaze, Celeborn scrutinised his adoptive son. He leaned back into his seat again, and folded his hands speculatively. “You're in love, correct? And unhappy so.”

Big hazel eyes looked up to him for help. Celeborn sensed that Haldir wouldn't tell him anything voluntarily. And he didn't want to force him to speak. So, he would have to guess the truth for himself. “Very well.” Taking a deep breath, Celeborn studied the ornamental carvings on the ceiling. “Why don't you want to tell him of your feelings?” And Celeborn knew that Haldir's secret love had to be male since the younger elf didn't care for female companionship. 

“He is beyond my reach,” Haldir whispered dejectedly.

In that moment, in which Celeborn saw this young elf he had raised so deeply unhappy, he wished to take him into his arms, and comfort him like he had done when Haldir had been small. But he knew that today, the younger elf wouldn't allow this closeness any more.

He thought feverishly. Who could it be? It had to be someone from Imladris. Haldir was sad ever since he had returned from there. Alarmed, he frowned. 

“Don't tell me it's not... one of my grand-sons?”

Haldir's head snapped up, and he stared at his foster-father with wide, shocked eyes. 

“Of course not!” he cried indignantly. “They are my brothers-in-law.”

Deeply relieved, Celeborn nodded. “Good, good, then... Erestor or Glorfindel?”

“No. they are just good friends.”

“Hm...” That only left... his eyes widened in shock. “Elrond?” Celeborn knew he was right when Haldir's whole body flinched, caught, but then he became rigid as a bowstring, ready for fight or flight. 

He needed a few moments to recover from that surprise, therefore, oppressing silence laid over the room. 

“Why...”

“He's still bound to Celebrian,” Haldir replied brusquely.

Sadly, Celeborn closed his eyes for a heartbeat. “My daughter is long gone. She set him free before sailing for Valinor.”

Blankly, Haldir looked into his foster-father's eyes. “I don't get why you support this insane notion since we're talking about your son-in-law here, but... there's his position as well...”

“But... Elrond's position doesn't have to be an obstacle,” Celeborn started hesitantly. 

“Of course it is an obstacle!”

“No!” Adamantly, Celeborn tried to convince his son how mad it was to refuse this love. “This difference in your standing was never a problem when your brothers married my grand-sons, Elrond's sons.”

Stubbornly. Haldir shook his head. “That's different. We're talking about Elrond here! He is... he is Elrond Peredhel. What's more to say to that?!”

Once more, Celeborn leaned forwards, restless, and grabbed Haldir's hands. “Haldir... son...”

“Please...” He looked up, tears swam in his hazel eyes. “Ada... it's not possible. Let's leave it at that.”

Abruptly, Haldir jumped up, and tore away from Celeborn. “If you would excuse me, Mylord.” He bowed before the older elf, and fled the room.

Resigned and incredibly sad, Celeborn remained behind. It hurt him to see Haldir like this, and he wanted to help him, but he didn't know how. He would have loved to talk to Elrond about this, or sought advice with Galadriel, but he knew that he mustn't Haldir's trust like that. He would never forgive him.

Sighing, he sank back into his chair, and closed his eyes. He could only trust that fate would make the right decision for Haldir. 

About one year passed before Celeborn send Haldir to Imladris again concerning matters he could easily have send a messenger for, not his Captain. But, although one year was but a blink of an eye for an elf, it was eternity for a certain suffering young elf unhappy in love. Celeborn couldn't stand Haldir's pain which the younger tried to hide. Therefore, he had come to the decision to take action himself. Haldir wouldn't do it out of his own. That's why he wanted to know Haldir in Elrond's proximity as often as possible. His love only had a chance that way. The desperate, accusing gaze of his foster-son when he send him to Imladris, he ignored. It was only for Haldir's best even if the younger elf only saw it as agonising punishment. Of course, he send Haldir's younger brothers with him. Rumil and Orophin should have the chance to be with their husbands as often as possible. Celeborn would have loved to accompany them, but if he send his best warriors, at least he had to stay behind. 

After almost three hard and exhausting weeks in the saddle, the three brothers and their comrades reached Elrond's hidden sanctuary in the mountains. Their hearts soared when they spotted the small, peaceful, and idyllic village from afar. Only Haldir felt a sting in his heart as well because although he wanted to see Elrond again more than anything, he knew as well that it would only hurt him to be near him. In Elrond's eyes he was nothing more than the brother of his sons-in-law and Celeborn's foster-son.

When they passed through the gate into the courtyard in front of the Last Homely House, the twins threw themselves into their husbands' arm before those had the chance to fully dismount. Despite his downtrodden mood, Haldir couldn't help himself, he had to smile about this exuberant joy, and inwardly, he was happy for his younger brothers. At least they could be happy.

Smiling, he turned over his horse to a stable boy, shouldered his pack, and left the two smitten couples behind in the courtyard. On the upper-landing of the steps leading up to the house, he was awaited by Erestor and Glorfindel.

“My friends,” he called with a laugh, and hugged his friends successively. “It's so good to see you again.”

“We're happy to have you back with us, Haldir,” Erestor replied warmly. He indicated the young elf standing a little behind him. “Melpom æ n will take you to your rooms. Will we see you at dinner?”

Haldir nodded. “Of course.”

“Excellent. Get some rest until then.”

Haldir inclined his head towards Elrond's councillors, and then followed Erestor's assistant into the house.

“Why didn't we take him to his rooms ourselves?” Glorfindel asked, confused, as soon as Haldir was out of earshot. 

Erestor indicated the two couples who still stood in the courtyard, but had now stuck their heads together. “I want to know what this whispering is all about.”

Glorfindel followed Erestor's gaze, and sighed in exasperation. “You're right, we better check what that's supposed to get.”

sceptically, the two Elves approached the four younger Elves in the courtyard, and threw them equally as sceptical, questioning gazes when the four saw them coming.

“May we ask what you're plotting again?” Glorfindel asked gingerly, and looked from one to the other with an imperious gaze. 

For a moment, it looked like especially the twins wanted to protest, but then they reconsidered, and Elladan stepped forward. “You have to help us.”

“Help? In what way?” Glorfindel surveyed the twins and their husbands with big eyes.

“What did you get up to now?” Erestor stepped in sceptically.

“Get up to?! Erestor! What gives you the idea that we have gotten up to anything?” In mock indignation, Elladan grasped his chest.

“From experience,” the ebony-haired councillor replied deadpan.

“No, no,” Rumil relented. “It's about Haldir.”

“About Haldir?” Erestor blinked in confusion.

“You've gotta help us to bring him together with someone,” the older Lorien-brother further explained. 

“Since when has Haldir a hard time to manage his love life?” Erestor asked once more in a dry voice.

“He doesn't. At least not if it's about his fleeting conquests.”

Abruptly, Erestor and Glorfindel looked at each other, then stared at their four opposites.

“He is in love,” Glorfindel breathed in astonishment. “Seriously in love.”

with an enthusiastic nod of his head, Orophin confirmed Glorfindel's realisation. “Yes, exactly. But now, he's too shy to approach him.”

“Haldir and shy – that I live to see that,” Erestor murmured. “And who exactly is your brother in love with?”

The four young Elves hummed and hawed, and threw each other halting glances.

“Well, actually, we're not supposed to know anything about this,” Rumil mumbled to divert from Erestor's question. “Haldir would kill us if he knew that we knew, but his looks speak louder than words. At least for us...”

“And when he thinks nobody sees him...”

Renewed silence descended during which none of the four Elves could bring himself to answer.

Expectantly, Erestor crossed his arms before his chest, and threw them admonitory glances when he saw that none of them was willing to come out with it.

Elrohir swallowed and stepped forth. After all, he knew what a big mistake it was to keep Erestor waiting. “With Ada.”

These haltingly delivered news left even the most articulate lord-chancellor of Middle Earth as well as the talkative Captain speechless. With big eyes, the older Elves stared at the others.

Erestor recovered faster than Glorfindel, and hid his shocked feelings behind a mask of cool professionalism again. “Well,” he began thoughtfully, and smoothed his black robes to win time to think about this. “That's quite the surprise.” 

“You underestimate, my friend,” Glorfindel threw in sarcastically. “And why the heck didn't we notice anything?” Offended, he crossed his arms before his chest, and looked at Erestor expectantly.

The advisor could only shrug his shoulders at a loss. “I'd like to know as well.” 

Sheking his head, Glorfindel turned to Haldir's brothers once more. “And now that he fell for Elrond, he is too shy to admit his feelings to him?” 

Shrugging, the brothers nodded.

“Yes,” Rumil replied additionally. 

“Are you sure Haldir is serious about it?” Erestor threw in sceptically, a warning note in his voice.

“Yes,” the younger brother said again. “If it would just be a fling for Haldir, he'd have seduced our dear father-in-law ages ago. He wouldn't even stop going for Thranduil.”

“Uff, you're right there,” Erestor sighed. “And with that you come to us of all people!”

“Well, who should we have turned to?” simultaneously came out of the twins' mouths accusingly. “To Sauron?”

“They are right, Erestor,” Glorfindel agreed. “Haldir is our friend, as is Elrond. We should help if we can. And besides... you  _ are _ brilliant after all.” 

Erestor let out a dry grunt. “Flattery won't get you far with me as you very well know.” His pondering gaze turned up in the direction of Elrond's office. “But you are quite right. They are our friends.” 

“Then you'll help us?” Orophin asked, overjoyed.

“Yes, we'll do all the work for you,” Erestor confirmed a little sardonically which caused the four younger Elves to blush, but he didn't want to torture them any longer, and so ignored their embarrassment. “At first, we'll have to find out if your brother has even the slightest chance with Elrond,” Erestor put a damper on Orophin's anticipation, and thus swept the victorious grins from the youngsters' faces. Determined, he grasped Glorfindel's sleeve, and pulled him in the direction of Elrond and their offices. “This won't be an easy feat,” he murmured. “He's more difficult and stubborn than Thranduil and Celeborn together if he wants.” 

“Have you seen their happiness?” Erestor's voice sounded casual, but he and Glorfindel didn't let Elrond out of their sights, watching for his reactions like hawks after they had entered Elrond's office to keep him informed about the Lorien Elves' arrival. 

“They see too little of each other,” Glorfindel agreed with a nod. 

Distracted, Elrond looked up from his letter, and frowned as he looked at his friends. Smiling, Erestor lounged on the small couch before the fireplace while Glorfindel leaned against the mantel, completely relaxed. He didn't quite see their point.

“You are right,” he murmured thoughtfully. “But it works for them.” Irritated, he bend back down ovee his answering letter to Celeborn.

“Hmhm,” Glorfindel hummed. “What about you then?”

Startled, Elrond looked up once more. “Do you mean me?”

“No, I'm talking about Asfaloth. Of course I mean you!” Reproachfully, Glorfindel pushed himself away from the mantel, and sauntered over towards and around Elrond's office desk only to stop behind him which irritated the half-elf profoundly. Erestor rose, and joined the other two Elves. With a disarming, rare smile, he perched on the edge of the table, but Elrond immediately recognised the calculating gleam in the black orbs. Erestor was a master at hiding his true feelings, but Elrond knew him long enough to notice it. It was enough to alert him. What did these two want from him? 

If they wouldn't have encircled him, and if he hadn't been sharply aware of Glorfindel's presence behind him who could grab him in the blink of an eye, Elrond would have jumped up and fled. 

“Elrond, you've been alone now for far too long. Don't you think it's time to fall in love again?”

Erestor's tone of voice took on a compassionate hew, but Elrond still felt embarrassed by the topic. Glorfindel meanwhile screwed up his face since he thought Erestor let the whole affair sound like a business transaction that needed dealing with. 

“Erestor... you both mean well, but...” Beaten, Elrond put down his quill, and leaned back tiredly. “I am old. Who would want me?”

“You're not old!” Glorfindel cried out, honestly shocked. “Well, you are, but look at you! You are wise, experienced, powerful, and a true sight for sore eyes!”

“Glorfindel!” Elrond threw Glorfindel a reproachful, shocked look over his shoulder. 

The blonde Captain shrugged. “What? You have no idea what effect you have people.”

“Rubbish. The only thing desireable about me is my position. Who would want an old, tired half-elf otherwise?”

His two best friends and advisors threw each other worried looks over Elrond's head. 

Determined, Erestor crossed his arms before his chest. “But what about say Haldir? You know he wouldn't care that you are halv-elven. He's so happy for his brothers and their marriages.”

“Haldir is,” Elrond sighed unhappily. “Yes, he is stunning, strong, brave, and compassionate, but... he can do so much better. What would someone like him want with someone like me? And why are you bringing up Haldir anyway?”

Glorfindel shrugged casually, and tried to save the situation as subtle as possible. “We just talked about the twins and your sons in law. It was logical to let our thoughts wander in that direction, that's all.”

Elrond's shoulders dropped tiredly, propping his elbows onto the desk. Shaking his head, he hid his face between his hands. “Leave me alone. Please.”

Mutely, Erestor and Glorfindel agreed to leave Elrond alone for now to lull him into false safety. For now.”

Hastily, Glorfindel pulled Erestor down the hallway as soon as they had left the half-elf's office. He wanted to be far enough away from Elrond's office to make sure that he couldn't hear them. He felt sure of that only when he'd shoved Erestor into his rooms, and firmly closed the doors behind them. 

With eyes widened in shock, he spun around to face Erestor. “Since when does he have such a low self-esteem?!”

Erestor tightly grasped Glorfindel's shaking shoulders, and tried to calm him down. “I didn't know it's that bad,” he replied through gritted teeth. Then, he let his hands slide from Glorfindel's shoulders, and  trodded over to Glorfindel's couch tiredly, slumping onto the soft cushions. He patted the seat next to his. “Come here. I'll tell you.” He grimaced painfully. “I really shouldn't, I don't want to violate his privacy, but I think it's better for our plan – which, by the way, I only support because I'm sure that it can work. Everything else would be torture for them both...” 

Curious but also nervous, Glorfindel sat down next to the ebony-haired elf, and fixed his sharp blue gaze onto him. 

For the first time in his life, Erestor couldn't withstand that gaze. Instead, he lowered his eyes, and stared onto his tightly clasped hands .

“It was hard for Elrond and Elros when they were children. Many were jealous of their position within Gil-Galad's household, and so they tried to target them on their weakest point.”

“Their ancestry.”

“Yes. With success.” They exchanged a sad look. “As a youngster, Elrond fell in love with one of Gil-Galad's officers. This Orc scum thought, only because Elrond is half-elven, that he could do with him as he liked, like with all of the supposedly worthless humans. He... he tried to...”

Glorfindel reached for Erestor's hand, and squeezed. When Erestor looked up, the fiery, enraged look in Glorfindel's eyes took his breath away.”

“What happened to that bastard? Is he still alive?” 

Erestor swallowed. “No. He fell in the Battle of the Last Alliance. If I hadn't intervened, and he'd actually done it, I would have castrated him like a rabid dog. You have my word on that.” 

An impressed, proud, but also gentle smile stretched Glorfindel's lips. “There's more to you than I thought.” 

Shyly, Erestor returned the smile. “Anyway, Gil-Galad banished him, but the experience was enough to scare Elrond deeply enough for these fears and inferiority complex to manifest.” 

“But what about Celebrian?”

“She was young and without any prejudices. She fell in love with him right on first sight. And anyway; he feels like that only with males. His preferences always lay with male elves, though.” 

“Hm...” Thoughtfully, Glorfindel tapped his chin. So, you think he wouldn't be averse to Haldir's advances?” 

“I'm sure of it. Didn't you see the yearning in his eyes?”

“Alright. Then, we have to do all we can to help those two.” Full of zest for action, Glorfindel wanted to clap his hands, but realised that he was still clutching Erestor's hand tightly. Their cheeks turning beet-red, they let go of each other. 

“Ehm...” Nervously, Erestor cleared his throat. “And how are we supposed to manage that?”

“You're the most brilliant diplomat in all of Middle Earth. _You_ tell me.” 

“Fine. Let's see.” Thoughtfully, Erestor leaned back. Suddenly, he perked up again, though, and threw Glorfindel a triumphant smile. “The summer fair!” he exclaimed. “I will ask Elrond to postpone the feast for one week. Then, it will coincide with Haldir's birthday, a perfect opportunity for us. Music, dancing, wine aplenty. All of that come to our favour. We just have to think of a plan for the evening to take them by surprise.” 

“And I know exactly how we will accomplish that.” Glorfindel returned Erestor's grin conspiratorially. “We just need a little help. From Lindir.” 

He simply shook his head at Erestor's questioning gaze. “Later. First, you have to ask Elrond to postpone the feast.”

Haldir had felt uncomfortable when he learned that Elrond had postponed the summer fair just because of his birthday, but he couldn't deny that such an exuberant feast was just the thing to take his mind off of Elrond for a while. Even when the half-elven just was a few metres away from him. 

Elrond was sat on his throne, and observed the festivities while Erestor was at his side to keep him some company. Furtively, Erestor threw side glances at his friend every once in a while. Elrond looked so lonely and excluded, but he didn't want it any other way, after all. Often, the elve lord felt that he didn't fit in with the other, merry-making elves. They both felt like that sometimes. But Erestor hoped to make Elrond happier when he and Glorfindel only managed to bring him and Haldir together. 

Elrond flinched when Erestor's hand suddenly landed on his arm, startling the half-elf who had been lost in thought. Questioningly, he looked at his chancellor.

“Come. I'm feeling quite lonely up here.” Erestor's fingers tightened around Elrond's wrist, and he pulled him up. He stuck Elrond's hand firmly into the crook of his elbow, and started strolling through the hall with him while involving him in trivial conversation. In reality, though, his whole attention was on Glorfindel and his part of the plan. 

In the meantime, Glorfindel, the twins, Orophin and Rumil, together with a lot of other Imladrian soldiers and residents, gathered around the guest of honour, laughing exuberantly and merrily, and joking around while eating and drinking.

Suddenly, Glorfindel raised his hands. “What would you say to a little game?” he called, laughing.

In high spirits, the others immediately agreed. Only Halrid grimaced since he feared to become the leading part in this little game.

“Very well” Glorfindel continued, and, with an auspicious smile, pulled forth a silk shawl from under his tunic. Haldir had to swallow when Glorfindel advanced on him with that thing in hand.

“My friend, I will now blindfold you. Then, I will lead you through the hall. When the music stops, you have to dance with the person in front of you.”

Applauding wildly, the other elves hooted their approval. 

“You call that a game?” Haldir protested feebly. “Do I have to?”

“No back talk.” With a hefty jolt, Glorfindel grasped Haldir's shoulders, and turned him around. Swiftly, he tied the shawl in front of Haldir's eyes. Accompanied by the rhythm of Lindir's agile music, Glorfindel led the younger elf through the hall slowly. “This is fun, believe me!” he tried to encourage Haldir once more.

“Nonetheless, it's a stupid _game_ ,” Haldir retorted again, but Glorfindel simply shoved him through the hall every which way with even more vigour.

“I'm a master of combat and strategy, not a game host. And now shut up.”

Slowly, unnoticed by Elrond, Erestor directed his friend in Haldir and Glorfindel's proximity in the meanwhile. When the two clueless victims were only a few steps apart from each other, Lindir's merry music stopped abruptly. In the same moment, Erestor spun Elrond around, and Glorfindel gave Haldir a push so that he stumbled against Elrond.

To intercept his fall, Haldir reached out his hands, and bumped into something in front of him, or rather, someone as he noticed immediately. Suddenly, his hands rested on a muscular, silk-covered chest. Angry about Glorfindel's games, he tore the shawl away... and froze. With wide eyes, he looked up, and met Elrond's shocked gaze.

Nervously, he swallowed while seeming to drown in the big, gentle grey eyes.

Completely thunderstruck, Elrond stared at the only slightly smaller Captain. Haldir's hand was warm and firm as it was pressed against his chest, and he thought the warmth of his touch seemed to set his skin aflame even through the thick fabric of his clothes. It would be so easy to bridge those last centimetres between them to have a taste of the full lips, slightly open in shock, but he couldn't... he wasn't ready yet. Maybe he would never be.

Although Haldir recognised the conflict in Elrond's eyes, he wasn't in any shape to take action himself. He wanted it so much, but now that Elrond was so close, courage abandoned him. An army of orcs was nothing compared to these few, insurmountable centimetres keeping them apart. “Mylord,” he stammered in shame, and, with a heavy blush, tore his hands away from Elrond's chest so as if the half-elf's body had burned him.

“Oh, what a coincidence!” Glorfindel's loud, delighted outcry let them recall that they weren't alone but that, instead, the whole of Elrond's household watched them.

Erestor gave Elrond another little push, directly into Haldir's arms. “You will dance with Haldir.” 

Elrond threw a reproachful but at the same time alarmed look back over his shoulder at his councellor which promised a lecture later on.

Erestor ignored him.

“Do you want to refuse? It's Haldir's birthday, after all.”

Grumbling, Elrond turned back to Haldir. “Of course not,” he gave in, and threw the younger elf a shy smile which Haldir returned, uncertain.

“Ehm, you lead.” Gradually, Elrond could bring himself to a smile that was a little bit more encouraging. “It's your birthday, after all.”

Haldir nodded mutely as if in a trance, and obeyed, completely flummoxed, and placed his left arm around Elrond's waist. Hesitantly, he pulled him flush against his body, and grasped the elf-lord's hand with his.

Glorfindel and Erestor grinned at each other over the shy pair's heads – who had only eyes for each other –, and looked over to Lindir. The minstrel returned their conspirational smile for a moment before he started the music again with the other minstrels.

The two elves realised that they had no choice but to actually dance with each other if they didn't want to make more of a fool out of themselves than Glorfindel and Erestor had already managed for them. Insecurily, they started moving to the rhythm of the music.

It was bliss and torure at the same time for them to feel the other pressed so close, the other's hard muscles and body warmth, breathing in each other's bewitching scent. 

The sweet melody of the instruments as well as Lindir's singing went right through them while looking each other deeply in the eyes, every other elf laughing and dancing around them suddenly forgotten.

The only few minutes the song lasted seemed like a small eternity in which they, unconcerned by all of their duties and restraints, could just be happy together.

But then, the music suddenly stopped, and both elves blinked at each other, dazed. But they managed to pause their movements instead of continue to sway to the rhythm of the music that still echoed in their heads. They still were in each other's arms without noticing, and only the loud, enthusiastic applause around them about Lindir's performance dragged them back into reality brutally. Mortified, they disengaged from each other, and scattered away to bring a bit more personal space between themselves.

Both elves looked flushed and breathless, which, for the main part, couldn't really be attributed to the dance but to the intimate proximity to each other. Like two statues, they stood facing each other amidst all the celebrating elves, staring at each other, embarrassed, insecure, but also filled with burning desire.

“It,” Elrond started, but had to swallow, his throat bone-dry, but there wasn't any servant in sight with a cup of Miruvor for his parched throat. To be honest, he wouldn't have been able to turn his gaze away from Haldir anyway, not for all of Arda. “It is quite hot in here, don't you think?” he tried again.

Haldir agreed with an ardent nod. “Yes, very.”

“What do you say to getting a bit of fresh air?”

“Good idea, Mylord.” Haldir nodded again, and blushed even more when he offered Elrond his arm instinctively.

The half-elf blushed as well, but nonetheless slipped his hand into the crook of Haldir's arm. Together, lost in their own little world, they left the Great Hall.

With the brightest and smuggest grin imaginable, making him almost look dumb, Glorfindel approached his fellow conspirators. He toasted them with a fresh cup of ale. “To our success,” he declared solemnly.

“Will you get the grin off before going to bed?” Erestor asked the blond elf, chuckling, but his own satisfied smile wasn't really second to Glorfindel's. 

“Nope. No chance. Especially not if you had seen what I just saw.” 

“What?!” the twins cried as if one, and looked at their former teacher excitedly.

“Elrond and Haldir just left the hall together,” Erestor released the tension, and snatched the cup of ale from Glorfindel's unresisting hands to take a deep, well-deserved swallow.

“Why do you always have to steal my show!” Glorfindel chided in mock outrage, and tried to re-conquer his cup without any success. “And my cup,” he added, grumbling.

“Let's hope 

„Dass du mir immer die Show stehlen musst!“, schalt Glorfindel gespielt empört und versuchte erfolglos wieder in den Besitz seines Bechers zu kommen. „Und meinen Becher“, setzte er grummelnd hinzu.

“Let's hope it's not just a walk in the gardens,” Rumil said darkly. 

“Rumil!” Aghast, Elrohir jabbed his elbow into his husband's rips.

“We won't even think about that,” Elladan finished Elrohir's line of thinking.

The youngest Lorien elf shrugged. “You want your father and Haldir together as well, don't you.”

The older twin nodded solemnly. “Of course. We want Ada to be happy – and Haldir as well, of course –, but that doesn't mean that we want to know the details.” His nodding increased while his expression turned distraught. “No child wants to know what their parents get up to in bed.”

“Our brother-in-law could actually become our stepfather. Have you thought about that?”

Elladan looked at his brother with a cocked eyebrow – a gesture he had copied from their father on which he had to work a little more though intimidating-wise. “You're right. Insane.”

“And _our_ father-in-law our brother-in-law,” Rumil added with a giggle.

“Yes, yes, but before that happens, those two have to muster up the courage to take a step towards each other,” Erestor reminded, putting a dampener on the others' anticipation. “You know how theiy are.” “Maybe they're so drunk that they immediately fall into bed together.” Glorfindel shrugged drily. “Haldir at least is. I made sure to get him sloshed properly.”

Erestor scrunched up his nose disapprovingly. “Elrond isn't, unfortunately. He almost never drinks.”

“Nah,” Orophin promised, sure of their victory. “You'll see, Erestor. Even if Elrond is sober, he won't stand a chance against Haldir's blazing passion!”

“I don't hear this, I don't hear this!” Elladan cried, and covered his ears.

“Let's hope for the best.” With a grim smile, Erestor emptied Glorfindel's cup, and pressed it back into the Captain's hand. “I'm going to bed now, my work for today is done,” he then proclaimed, and spun around on his heel. “Good night.”

Glorfindel looked after the black-haired beauty. By now, he had had so much alcohol – the Lorien siblings had brought a couple of Celeborn's wine; the devillish brew even brought the most hard-drinking elf under the table after only half a bottle – that he, for once, could admit to his normally secret wish to be able to keep Erestor company, just to make sure that at least one had some fun tonight if you couldn't rely on Elrond and Haldir.

Ruefully, he shook his head violently, and immediately regretted it. The wine didn't only make one drunk in the blink of an eye, it caused a brutal headache after the merry, intoxicating effect hat faded. Which happened exactly this moment. Suddenly, he saw himself confronted with four half-elves and four Lorien elves, and the room suddenly began spinning at an alarming speed.

“I'd better go as well,” he mumbled softly to spare his pounding head, and carefully shuffled from the Great Hall. “Good night.” Despite his headache though, the sudden resurfacing, seductive memory of Erestor going for a swim in the Bruinen a few years back – naked, of course – springing up in his mind stayed with him, and gifted Glorfindel the sweetest dreams he'd had for some time now.

Even if he couldn't unfortunately remember any of that the next morning. 

In the meantime, Elrond and Haldir strolled through the florid gardens, arm in arm, but nonetheless engulfed in an oppressive silence. The overwhelming, drowsy scent of the flowers and trees didn't help any to calm down the two elve's nerves. Neither Elrond nor Haldir knew what they were supposed to talk about, and thus, they simply continued their walk in silence. 

Nervous like never before in his life, Haldir threw Elrond hasty looks from the corner of his eye once in a while.

He wished he had allowed Glorfindel to get him drunk after all, but wisely hadn't touched his foster father's infamous wine, and had instead drunk the more digestible wine from Imladris without Glorfindel noticing. At the moment, however, he would have given anything for a glass to give himself some liquid courage... but no, better not. What a galadhel he would be if he couldn't muster up the courage himself! It wouldn't make him look good in Elrond's eyes if he was drunk.

Gathering all his courage, he unconsciously pressed Elrond's arm closer which still lay inside the crook of his own arm, felt his body heat, and suddenly yearned for more body contact than this slight touch. 

“Mylord... Elrond...” His voice deserted him, and Elrond's gaze flitted over to him, startled, so asif he had yanked him from a daydream. 

He looked into those big, grey eyes, and everything he'd wanted to say was blown away like dust in the wind. Instead, he smiled a little embarrassed, and inclined his head thoughtfully. “A beautiful evening, isn't it?” he finally managed. He had to say something at least before Elrond thought him a complete idiot.

A gentle smile appeared on Elrond's lips also, and he nodded as he suddenly found himself a little more in control of the situation. “A special evening for a special occasion.”

Haldir felt his cheeks turn fiery red. “I don't deserve all this attention, Mylord. I'm just a simple soldier from Lorien.”

“Don't diminish your value, Haldir!” Erlond's tone sounded a little too sharp in his own ears, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't bear the idea that this wonderful being was not given the attention he deserved. If it were up to him, and Haldir would be his, he would have read his every wish from his lips, day after day. Unfortunately, since Haldir was out of his reach, Elrond at least wanted to honor him as befitted the Captain of the Galadhrim and his sons-in-law's brother.

Haldir's cheeks reddened confronted with Elrond's passionate words, and he was once more lost for words.

Elrond didn't fare any better, and so they continued their walk through the gardens in silence. With each passing minute they spend in silence, the two seasoned warriors felt more and more silly, like some young, enarmoured elves who met alone for the first time.

Eventually, Elrond couldn't bear the tension between them any more. “It's late,” he mumbled. “I should retire. A long day lays ahead of me tomorrow.” 

Disappointed, Haldir nodded, but allowed that they turned around to go back into the house.

Enttäuscht nickte Haldir, ließ jedoch zu, dass sie Kehrt machten zurück in Richtung Haus. 

“I'll accompany you to your rooms.” At least he wanted to spend these few additional minutes with Elrond even if the evening should end so soon and so disappointing. 

“Agreed.”

Strangely, the closer they got to the house, the calmer they both became again. The music and indistinct babble of voices could be heard again, so that both of them became aware of their return to reality. Their togetherness (the potential of which they had let pass by unused anyway due to their childish cowardice) was over and another opportunity to be alone with each other would not arise anytime soon.

Gradually, they turned into the family wing. Soft music could be heard even in this remote area.

In the end, they stood silently facing each other in front of Elrond's door. Nobody managed to say a single word, and Elrond's hand slipped from the crook of Haldir's arm. A worthy end to their already silent evening.

“Then... Good night, Haldir,” Elrond stammered eventually, and couldn't decide if he should squeeze Haldir's hand in goodbye or not. His mind told him to keep his distance, but his body told a completely different story. 

Haldir felt the same way. For a moment, he looked away from Elrond's seductive eyes and looked down into the void between them. He grabbed Elrond's hands impulsively, and gripped them tightly with his. Elrond made a soft, surprised sound, and Haldir had to swallow hard at hearing it. He couldn't believe how brisk he was. Both elves stared down at their now clasped hands.

“The evening was very nice,” Haldir whispered, feeling incredibly stupid since he had said something similar in the garden earlier already, and looked up again, hoping that his feelings weren't visible on his face. He was still angry with Glorfindel, but he couldn't deny that it had been the best feeling ever to hold the half-elf in his arms while dancing thanks to Glorfindel's stupid game, and he was happy to have experienced it. Even if he would have to suffer even more from now on since he now knew how it felt, and he would never experience it again. But it was worth it.

“Yes, I think so, too,” Elrond replied softly, and Haldir blinked when he saw a strange glint in Elrond's gray eyes for a moment. Had he been mistaken or had the half-elf just looked at him with the same wistful look that Haldir regarded him with every time he saw Elrond? Could it be? 

Seized by sudden determination and courage, of which he couldn't tell where it suddenly came from, he closed his hands a little more tightly around Elronds, and took a step towards the Lord of Imladris. He hadn't been wrong, certainly not!

“The evening doesn't have to end yet,” he whispered before he leaned in to brush his lips against Elrond's. 

Surprised, Elrond gasped, trembling under Haldir's touch, but he couldn't deny that he wanted it. Despite his doubts, Haldir kindled a blaze in his body onyl through this small touch; he'd never experienced something like that, and for one moment, he let himself be overwhelmed by his feelings so that he responded to Haldir's kiss with the same passion. But then, guilt suddenly surged up inside of him, threatening to sweep him away. He'd made a promise to Celebrian on the day of their wedding, and he couldn't simply break that. That she'd set him free didn't matter, this promise went deeper.

“Haldir,” Elrond murured against the soft lips that drew back abruptly. “I can't... I made a promise to Celebrian...” He looked at Haldir apologetically. “I gave her my heart at out wedding. I can't be unfaithful to her. When she left for Valinor, she set me free, but while my body is mine to command again, my heart is still bound to her.”

Haldir smiled bravely, locking up his pain and his bitterness deep inside of himself. “I understand. It's alright.” If Elrond was only prepare to give him his body but not his heart, then he was content with that. He had to be. Willing himself to smile tenderly, he bend forwards to kiss Elrond again.

Elrond only barely suppressed another flinch. Filled with desperation but also desire, he closed his eyes. He'd hoped so dearly that Haldir would understand that he still needed time. He wanted this union, but until he could give himself to the other elf, body  _ and _ soul, it would need time. But obviously, Haldir wasn't prepared to give him this time. Obviously, the other elf just wanted a physical relationship. Oh, he should have known. After all, everybody knew Haldir's reputation! It seemed that it shouldn'd be that he was loved just for himself. It had happened then, and now it happened again. But nonetheless, Elrond couldn't deny that he loved Haldir. He'd been alone for so long now that he felt like a flower in the darkness: Cut off from light and water, and thus doomed to wilt miserably. Haldir's touch sparked his spirits anew. The light of his fea shone so brightly that it chased off the darkness in Elrond's heart, healing him. Even if his heart wasn't healed completely like that, at least his body and soul could. Although it tore his heart to pieces, he needed that physical closeness, even when the feelings involved weren't real. And if his body was everything Haldir was willing to give, then he had to accept that. The Galadhel obliged to him in any way, least of all to love Elrond.

He kept his eyes closed so that Haldir wouldn't see the disappointment in them. At the same time, Elrond could lose himself in the illusion that Haldir loved him back while he returned the kiss hungrily.

Like a drowning man, he clung to the younger elf as if he was his salvaging boat in a storm. The passion with which he returned the kiss was alien to him normally. 

Giggling laughter which came closer and closer suddenly startled them apart. Both held their breath in horror, and waited for someone to turn the corner. And when the voices actually came closer and closer, Haldir snapped out of his daze, and he quickly opened the door to Elrond's rooms to slip in, pulling the half-elf behind him. Relieved, he closed the door behind them, and they both looked at each other again, startled, but then smiled sheepishly and relieved.

Their eyes still fixed on each other, the smiles died on their faces, and afterwards, nobody could have said who took the first step. The very next moment, they were in each other's arms again, and descended into a wild, intimate kiss while their hands tugged on knots, buckles and buttons.

A little awkwardly, they stumbled to the bed without letting go. On the way there, they left a trail of clothing that they hastily tore from the other's body, and carelessly dropped to the ground.

Elrond directed Haldir through the dark room through which he could find his way even in total darkness. He stopped when the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress. Haldir had also noticed where they had arrived by now, so he wrapped his arms tightly around Elrond's waist, and lowered the half-elf onto the bed, only to readily follow him. Both elves gasped excitedly when they came to rest on each other, arms and legs closely entwined, their bodies pressed tightly together.

Haldir tugged his remaining clothes off impatiently, and then set about freeing Elrond of his remaining clothes.

Elrond was glad for the darkness in the room so that Haldir wouldn't see his body when the other elf finally managed to strip him completely. Probably at some point, at dawn at the latest, it couldn't be avoided that the other elf would see him, and he did not want to see the disappointment in the other's dark eyes when he realized whom he had gotten involved. Because Elrond didn't feel desirable in any way. Especially not compared to the young, handsome warrior in his arms. By now, he realized that he felt that way because of the painful experience in his youth, but even Haldir wouldn't be able to deny that a younger, pure-blooded elf was preferable to Elrond. Not only did he feel old, it was visible for all to see in the form of deep wrinkles of worry that had dug into his face because of the hard blows of fate that life had dealt him. But he had never been more aware than in that moment how different his body was from that of a pure-blooded elf. He was taller than most elves, that wasn't a problem, but his skin was darker, his features cruder and sharper, which made him look coarser. Where an elf's skin was perfectly smooth, dark hair sparsely covered his chest and the hair between his legs was hard and wiry, whereas that of other elves was soft and fine.

Haldir would see Elrond's imperfection, and thus come dawn realise the mistake he would make with this night despite his carnal desires, but at that moment, Elrond wanted to be completely under the illusion that everything was perfect, that they were equals that desired each other unconditionally.

Since Haldir could only see very little indeed, he explored Elrond's body with his hands and lips. He wanted to memorise every millimetre of the warm body, every scar, every birthmark, every little peculiarity. Although he roughly knew about the outer differences between pure-blooded and half-elves, he now wanted to know everything in exact detail. He lay down between Elrond's willingly spread legs and pulled him flush against him. His hands wandered, searching and learning, over Elrond's torso. His fingers ran playfully through the sparse hair on Elrond's muscular chest, which he suspected was as dark as the silky, ebony mane on his head. It fascinated him. An elf's body was almost hairless. But Elrond's body was, in some ways, more like a human's than an elf's. At least in this regard (not that he had had a lot of experience with human men – and undressed men to top it of –, but a diplomatic mission to Minas Tirith, including a visit to the bathhouse many years ago, had been very revealing). He ran his fingers down Elrond's chest, always following that thin trail of dark hair until his hand finally came to rest over the hot, powerful erection in its nest of thick, coarse hair.

Elrond moaned when Haldir's hand closed firmly around him to stroke him slowly.

The Galadhel wished he could see the ecstatic expression in Elrond's face. 

As if his wish had been granted by the Valar, the heavy cloud cover hiding the bright full moon suddenly broke open. Blue-wight light bathed the room and the two lovers into its calm light all of a sudden. 

Haldir looked up, finally able to see his lover with his own two eyes. He startled and caught his breath because he couldn't believe how beautiful his lover was, immersed in the passion and ecstasy that showed on his face.

He shakily ran his eagerly searching hands over firm muscles that were covered by perfect, sweaty skin that glistened silver in the moonlight but which Haldir knew was a little darker than that of pure-blooded elves. How he wished in that moment that he could admire Elrond's beautiful body in daylight so that the golden rays of the sun illuminated his honey-colored skin, so exotic and beautiful that he almost did not dare to touch the dark-haired elf. Even now, he had to forcefully suppress the awe and feeling of being inferior to this majesty, grace, and beauty, and force himself to give in to his innermost desire and see them as equal in that one moment, that one night.

Once more, he bend down to Elrond, seized by the untamable urge to kiss the half-elf again. “You're so beautiful,” he breathed against Elrond's moist lips. 

The older elf shivvered when he heard these words. He couldn't help himself, he felt flattered, desired for his person, not his title even if he knew that it wasn't true. “You don't have to say that,” he murmured while he let his fingers slide through Haldir's thick silver hair, arching his body into the Galadhel's as he wrapped his legs tightly around Haldir's waist. 

Haldir froze for a split-second when he heard the doubt in Elrond's voice. Didn't the half-elf know how beautiful he was? How desired he was by all who laid eyes on him, and even more by those who were graced with the honour to get to know his kind, loving nature? Judging by the tone of his voice, he didn't seem to know. Shaking his head, he continued with the loving exploration of his hands. “It's the truth. I will show you how beautiful you are...” He promised this with passion in his voice before he once more leaned down to the older elf to press his lips to Elrond's demandingly. 

As as their desires sequentially catapulted their bodies into ever greater ecstasy, Elrond reached over the edge of the bed with trembling fingers. His searching, clumsy fingers managed to grab a small vial of oil. Usually, the spicy-smelling oil was used to keep his skin supple, but now, it would serve a much less innocent purpose. He pressed the bottle into Haldir's hand, the Galadhel's strong fingers immediately closing around the cool glass.

Coating his trembling fingers with the golden liquid, Haldir let them slide between their tightly pressed bodies and between Elrond's cheeks. Both moaned with arousal when Haldir penetrated the older elf's tight heat with one slippery finger. Only after a few moments did he add a second one to stretch his lover. He played Elrond's body like a master bard his harp. Instead of lovely music though, he teased even more sweet noises from Elrond because the choked, breathless moaning that involuntarily tumbled from Elrond's mouth was more beautiful to the silver-haired elf than all the music on Arda. 

Slippery oil dripped onto the sheets when the Galadhle spilled the liquid in his haste, but he didn't care. The only thing that counted at the moment was the eager anticipation to lose himself in his lover in a few seconds. 

He met Elrdond's burning gaze, and their eyes held fast to each other in mute understanding. Without breaking eye contact, Haldir wrapped Elrond's legs around his hips, and entered him with one powerful thrust.

Overwhelmed, Haldir bit his bottom lip as intoxicating tightness and heat engulfed him, Elrond's choked outcry another, sweet melody in his ears. 

Trembling, Elrond clawed his fingers into Haldir's biceps, seeking hold, and he arched into the younger elf to feel him even deeper inside of him. Moaning, he closed his eyes, and threw his head into his neck, ensnared in a rush of ecstasy. There were no words that could describe how he felt, being filled and possessed by hard, hot flesh. The feeling united everything he could ever have imagined, but at the same time, it wasn't how he had thought it would be at all. 

“Shall I continue?” Haldir gasped, who had trouble holding back from simply losing himself in Elrond's body with unrestrained passion. He had to force himself to give his lover time to adjust. 

Incapable of uttering even one word, Elrond nodded jerkily, and as if to underline his demand, arched his hips against Halrid. His lover's hard shaft slipped even deeper into him.

Haldir complied only too willingly to Elrond's urging. Moving onto his knees, he closed his hands tightly around Elrond's hips, and pulled the half-elf's lower body onto his lap before he thrust for the first time.

Screams of ecstasy echoed through the otherwise silent room, spiralling up into an unstoppable crescendo with every stroke of Haldir's hips into the willing body in his arms. As if enclosed in their own world, the two lovers finally tumbled over the edge, and were swept away from a wave of ecstasy together. 

Tightly wrapped in each other's arms, they fell into an exhausted sleep. 

Warm sunbeams tickled Elrond's face the next morning, and blinking, he opened his eyes. Comfortable warmth surrounded him, and strong arms pressed him against a muscular body. 

He froze, his breath becoming frantic before he drew one deep breath, and carefully turned around in Haldir's arms. To his surprise, the other elf was awake already, and simply watched him.

“You,” he stammered disbelieving. “You stayed.”

Haldir's warm gaze gave way to confusion. “Of course. Did you think...”

Yes. That was exactly what Elrond had thought. Why had the Galadhel stayed?

Haldir shook his head, a little hurt that Elrond thought so little of him. Or was it even annoyance he could hear in Elrond's incredulous voice? Didn't the half-elf want this liaison be revealed to all, or didn't want that it went beyond merely the physical? That could very well be, and it was only understandable. It was alright when Elladan and Elrohir married simple soldiers, but the Lord of Imladris himself? That was a completely different matter. This realisation hurt fiercely, but if that was Elrond's wish, Haldir would tacitly abate by it. He would do everything to be allowed to spend a little more time with Elrond, as harsh as the conditions may seem. Sighing, he bend over Elrond, and gently kissed his forehead. 

“When I woke up, I got quite the fright,” he then changed the topic, and looked at Elrond in mock-accusation. “My brothers told me that you half-Elves sleep with your eyes closed, but to see it for myself...”

Elrond cringed inwardly since it once more reminded him how different he was from Haldir. “Forgive me, I didn't think of that,” he said softly.

“Oh well, I survived,” Haldir laughed.

Glumly, he looked up to the other elf. How beautiful he was. Haldir's merry, carefree laugh surrounded him with an aura of deep peace and happiness. Hesitantly, Elrond reached for a lock of silky-soft silver hair to let it slide through his fingers. In the golden rays of the morning sun falling through the window onto the bed, Haldir's hair sparkled like Mithril.

“What's on your mind?” Haldir asked who had noticed the pondering look on his lover's face. Propping himself up on one elbow, Haldir scrutinised Elrond.

Withstanding the urge to bite his lower lip, Elrond stubbornly fixed his gaze on to the silver hair between his fingers.

“It's only... I wonder...” Elrond fell silent, completely uncharacteristically for him being at a loss for words. Suddenly, he directed his gaze onto Haldir. The piercing look in the grey eyes transfixed Haldir, and he was unable to move.

“What do you see in me? I am old, Haldir. And I look my age. You however...” Elrond fell quiet once more, incapable of speaking even one more word.

Shocked, Haldir took breath to object, but he paused since he knew that words wouldn't convince Elrond.

The half-elf once again averted his face from him so as if he was ashamed. Haldir took advantage of that to study his lover extensively once more before he would show him that he was neither old nor undesirable. Yes, Elrond seemed older than other Elves. The first fine lines showed around his mouth and eyes, and his forehead was furrowed by deep worry lines, now clearly visible in the sunshine than in the moon's light. But it didn't take away any of the hald-elf's beauty, his imposing, regal appearance. Rather, it emphasized his wisdom, and was testimony to the hard fate the Valar had burdened him with. Horrible experiences that had only made him all the stronger. 

No. Words wouldn't convince Elrond. But actions...

Determined, Haldir grasped Elrond's shoulder, and rolled him around, facing him. Before Elrond could say anything, Haldir sealed his mouth with his own while his yearning hands roamed all over Elrond's body.

Elrond moaned softly into Haldir's mouth, overwhelmed by the Galadhel's passion, but on the inside, he grieved. Haldir's silence and his actions spoke louder than thousand words ever could. Obviously, the younger elf didn't care that even he deemed Elrond undesirable as long as he could own him. For a short moment, he felt degraded and lost. Why, if Haldir could have everyone, would he bother with Elrond? Because of the prestige to have had Elrond Peredhel? Because he was pitiful in his loneliness, and the radiant young God only took pity on him or maybe simply because Elrond was easy to have because of that? Shaken by these possible motivations, even if deep in his heart he didn't think Haldir so cruel, Elrond wanted to push him away, but the feeling of degration wasn't as strong as the yearning he felt for Haldir.

With all of his might, he pushed all of his negative feelings aside, and once more surrendered himself to Haldir. 

He felt Haldir's consuming gaze on his whole body like caresses, making him shudder pleasantly. Since their night together two days ago, they hadn't had the chance to see each other often, but when they were in the same room, the air seemed to be charged with sexual tension. Elrond marvelled that nobody had noticed until now.

But that was everything that existed between them. Yearning gazes. Elrond had to admit that he didn't dare to approach Haldir again. What if the Galadhel had really only lain with him out of pity? But no. Then, he wouldn't sense Haldir's eyes on him as soon as he stepped into a room. But what if.. what if he only wanted to brag with having conquered the famous half-elf? How soon until all of Lorien would know? Did Haldir laugh behind his back how pathetic he was in his loneliness? Elrond didn't want to believe that, but on the other hand, he didn't want to give Haldir any opportunity to start thinking like that only because Elrond was too clingy.

Huffing, Elrond turned away from Haldir, disgusted with himself how low he had fallen to have let this whole affair depress him so much.

Haldir pressed his lips together, a disappointed whine got stuck in his throat when Elrond turned away. He couldn't help himself. As soon as he stepped into the same room as the half-elf, his gaze zoomed in on Elrond automatically. 

It had been like waking up in a new life. Becoming one with Elrond had given him the final confirmation that his decades-old love wasn't obsession or infatuation. No, this love was real. No other lover Haldir had ever had was important any more. He knew that Elrond would be his or no one. But since that night two days ago, Haldir only suffered all the more. Now he knew what it was like to hold everything he'd ever dreamed and desired in his arms, but since then, he and Elrond hadn't spoken again. Haldir didn't dare go near Elrond. Too big were his worries to anger the Lord of Imladris. After all, Haldir wasn't anything more than a simple soldier of low birth. To let a union between him and Elrond Peredhel become public could hurt Elrond's reputation. That was the last thing Haldir wanted. He just wanted to see Elrond happy... 

Oh, how much did he want to confide in his brothers, but he didn't dare telling even them. But on the other hand, he realised that he wouldn't be able to bear this yearning from afar for very long, not since he knew how it could be between him and Elrond...

Tonight, he would seek him out.

Surprised, Elrond blinked when he opened the door after persistent knocking only to come face to face with Haldir. His heart skipped a beat, and a pleasant shudder ran through his whole body when he saw how determined and full of yearning Haldir looked at him.

Without words, they came together. The doors crashed into the lock behind Haldir, and in the next moment, Haldir was slammed against it by the half-elf's surprising strength. Strong hands tugged and tore as if in a frenzy at precious fabrics as if there was no tomorrow while the two elves kissed with desperate passion. 

Relieved, Elrond exhaled shakily when the door closed behind Erestor. His friend and councillor was, as always, much too attentive. Although this made him indispensable in his function as Lord-chancellor of Imladris, this talent wasn't as appreciated if it concerned Elrond's private life. But he could keep up with Erestor's stubborness very well which was why his councillor couldn't get anything out of him this time, much to his frustration. Nonetheless, Elrond had to admit that it hadn't been easy. He hadn't any strength left to resist Erestor, and almost, he had relented. Would have relented and told his worried friend everything; from his affair with Haldir that went on for a few weeks now; how happy the other elf made him, but also how miserable he became day after day. He loved Haldir, he couldn't deny it any more, but he couldn't bear an affair without love any more either. Every time he and Haldir were together, Elrond felt his heart breaking a little more.

“I have to end it,” he murmured bitterly. He had to end it before his heart shattered to pieces, causing him to fade. After all, he had a family he had to think of as well as of the welfare of Imladris' inhabitants, and he even had an obligation towards Middle Earth thanks to Vilya. 

Absent-mindedly, he brushed his fingertips over the warm ring on his finger, but although powerful, this time, the magic ring couldn't give him any advice. 

Sighing, Elrond rubbed his tired eyes. He needed fresh air to be able to think again. Maybe a walk along the Bruinnen would help him muster up the courage to leave Haldir. 

With tired steps, he slipped from his rooms and through the dark corridors, always careful not to run into anyone. 

He hadn't noticed that his inner turmoil was visible on the outside, and when Erestor had noticed, then soon, others would see it as well. And the way he felt at the moment, his appearance would cause all alarm bells to ring should he encounter his children or Glorfindel. Then, he wasn't so sure any more if he could refuse an explanation.

Cool night air hit his face. The cold on his skin was a shock, but nonetheless pleasant. 

Elrond caught himself hastening his steps to reach the shores of the Bruinnen. 

Restless, Haldir stared into the darkness. Elrond's rooms were deserted, and now he wondered where the half-elf could be. He wasn't in the Hall of Fire. Maybe he spend his evening with Erestor and Glorfindel? But no, he vaguely remembered seeing them in a corner of the Hall of Fire, bend over a chessboard.

So, where in the name of the Valar was Elrond.

Instinctively, Haldir's feet started moving, and carried him into the gardens. Maybe... 

He had to talk to Elrond urgently. But he always postponed his intentions for a few days now. Every time he sought Elrond out to talk to him, something distracted him from his purpose; Elrond's eyes, his hands sliding over Haldir's body, seeking, his mouth taking possession of his own... 

But now, it had to be done. He couldn't bear it any longer. He loved Elrond, oh, and how he loved him, but he couldn't stand it any more to be Elrond's shameful secret. He yearned for nothing more than being allowed to stand besides Elrond, but he was prepared, should the half-elf deny him this, to let Elrond go. In the past, he hadn't minded meaningless trysts, but then, it had never been him who had lost his heart after all. To leave Elrond would confront him with the hardest thing he ever had to do in his life, but better to go their separate ways than this degrading hiding behind closed doors. Haldir was prepared to give up a lot, but even he had his pride and his dignity, and he knew that his brothers as well as his foster parents would tell him that he deserved something better, something true. 

Becoming increasingly restless, Haldir stormed through the gardens. His trained gaze took in every small movement in the nightly darkness.

There! A rustle. 

He steered in the direction of the noise sound from behind a rose hedge. 

But he stopped abruptly.

White-blond hair suddenly flashed in the light of the stars, and a familiar dark voice reached his ears. He couldn't make out whose twin the voice belonged to – right this moment, it was impossible for him to keep them apart – and which of his brothers' silver hair he saw. And to be truthful, he rather not anyway at the moment. His brothers' happiness only reminded him what he should lose very soon, and the soft, dark moaning of the Peredhel-twin only reminded Haldir painfully of the father's beguiling voice. 

Briskly, Haldir spun around again, and left the gardens as fast as he could. 

While his mind frantically searched for the next location he could look at for Elrond, his feet carried him as if on auto-pilot once more. But this time, the feeling that urged him forward wasn't led by yearning but out of a dark hunch. Something wasn't right, every fibre of his being felt it. And when he had learned one thing under Galadriel's care, then that ignoring such an intuition like this right now could mean certain death.

More and more breathless out of sheer panic that grew with every minute, Haldir deftly pushed his way through the undergrowth towards the Bruinnen. The rushing of the river already reached his sharp ear. He wanted to call out Elrond's name, talking himself into believing that he only had overreacted, but in that second, screams and the din of a battle broke through the idyllic silence of the night. 

For a split-second, Haldir's heart stopped when he recognised the disgusting tongue of Mordor. Then, he started running, bitterly regretting that he wasn't armed safe for a knife in his boot.

Instinctively, he reached for the small horn at his belt that every Galadhle carried. At least he had something. That way, he could call for help. Hopefully, it wasn't too late yet.

He put the horn to his lips while he ran even faster. 

Absent-mindedly, Erestor played with one of the few chess figures in front of him that he had managed to obtain this eve. One look at Glorfindel's considerable spoils told everybody how distracted the formidable player was tonight. 

“Erestor!”

Erestor startled when Glorfindel called his name loudly. Blinking, he met blue eyes who scrutinised him reproachfully, then worried. 

“It's nothing.” He through Glorfindel a hardly convincing smile. “I was only lost in thoughts.”

Glorfindel frowned. “Care to share them with me?”

Thoughtfully, Erestor frowned as well. It would probably for the best if he confided in Glorfindel. He very well knew that the Captain hadn't noticed anything as of yet. The signs that something was wrong were quite obvious.

It was clear to everyone that Elrond and Haldir had finally found together at the feast in honor of Haldir. Neither of the matchmakers had missed how happy they looked, how much Elrond suddenly blossomed, and how intense the looks they gave each other when they thought nobody noticed. But apparently, no one had noticed the deep-seated sadness that had recently taken over Elrond either. The half-Elf thought that nobody noticed, but Erestor knew Elrond too well and too long for that. And in the unobserved moment, Erestor saw the same sadness in Haldir's eyes.

Alarmed, Erestor had always wondered what was wrong between the two and whether it could not be easily eliminated if the two were simply put together so that they could speak out.

Since none of the others had noticed anything, and Rumil and Orophin hadn't said anything either, meaning Haldir hadn't entrusted himself to them, Erestor decided to get to the bottom of it himself.

His attempt to confront Elrond less than an hour earlier had failed. Elrond had been stubborn and evasive and this time, even Erestor hadn't been able to crack this tough nut.

However, that did not mean that he would let himself be discouraged. Elrond and Haldir's happiness was important to him, which was why he would not rest until the two had resolved their differences.

So, maybe he should tell...

He looked into Glorfindel's determined face, and opened his mouth to speak when the sudden, unmistakable tone of a horn from Lorien cut through the silence. 

The two Elves looked at each other in alarm. Then, they jumped up so that black and white chess figures flew in every direction. 

While sprinting down the corridor and out of the Last Homely House, they met up with the twins and their husbands. 

“Haldir!” Orophin shouted out of breath, and only confirmed the obvious like thus whom the horn belonged to whose warning signal had alarmed the whole house. 

In the courtyard, they met some of Glorfindel's men, one of whom threw a sword to Glorfindel. Two other soldiers armed the twins and the Lorien brothers while they ran. 

“You should stay, Erestor,” Glorfindel called over his shoulder, but Erestor refused to even deign this with an answer; he could as well spare that breath for running. 

Glorfindel, capable of learning as could be sometimes, only let out a resigned huff, and continued running.

The sound of Haldir's horn led them to him. Shocked, the friends came to a slithering stop when they encountered the oldest Lorien brother. Breathing heavily and completely dishevelled, he stood bowed over amidst dead orcs, one hand pressed into his side and a bleeding wound on his forehead. His knife stuck from a dead Orc's eye socket. 

“Haldir!”

His brothers rushed up to him, and could barely support him before he sank onto his knees weakly. A choked cry of pain tumbled from his lips, but he shoved Rumil's hands away who had reached for him to take a look at his wounds. 

“Elrond!“ he gasped desperately, and raised his pleading gaze. He evaded the shocked twins' faces. Instead, he searched Glorfindel's eyes, seeking help. When their eyes met, Glorfindel shook off his own shock, and spun around to his thunderstruck men. He bellowed out some orders, but Haldir didn't listen any more. Stubbornly, he tried to get to his feet under his brothers' protests.

“Take it easy!” Orophin warned his big brother, but Haldir stubbornly shook his head. 

“Gotta find him,” he pressed forth through gritted teeth. “Couldn't protect him.” 

“Please, Haldir.” Elrohir had stepped forward, and tried now as well to talk soothingly to Haldir. “Let me check youe wounds. Glorfindel will find Ada.”

Rebelliously, Haldir looked into painfully familiar grey eyes in which he read the same patience but also stubborness as in Elrond's. 

“Very well,” he sighed resignedly, and let himself be led back to the house, propped up by his brother and brother-in-law. 

“Elrohir, let me go. I have to...”

The grimly determined argument between patient and healer was interrupted by Glorfindel's return a few hours later. The two discussing Elves froze, and blinked expectantly at Glorfindel. 

The Captain shook his head, sighing, and dropped down onto an empty bed. 

“We lost their trace.” 

“What?!” Haldir flared up angrily, ignoring the pain in his side. “You don't want to tell me you gave up! How can you!”

“Haldir, keep calm,” Elrohir tried to placate his brother-in-law, but Haldir simply shook of his reassuring hand from his shoulder. 

“No, Elrohir, how can he simply give up! Elrond is... He is my...”

“And he is my father,” the young half-elf interrupted him strictly which took the wind out of the Galadhel's sails. Shocked, he stared at Elrohir. Ashamed, he lowered his gaze. “Forgive me.”

This time, he allowed the gentle pressure of Elrohir's hand on his shoulder. 

“I send out every man I could spare, and they've split up in two groups,” Glorfindel explained calmly without holding Haldir's outbreak against him. “Elladan and Orophin lead one group, Rumil the other. You Galadhel are better reader of tracks than we...”

“Then I will...”

“You will recover at first,” Erestor admonished strictly who had arrived by now. “It's no use to anyone, least of all Elrond, if you're not at peak efficiency.”

Haldir bit his lower lip in frustration. He didn't want to admit it, but unfortunately, Erestor was – like in most cases – right. 

“It's a miracle that you could hold yourself against this horde only armed with a knife,” Erestor continued undeterred.

“Which choice did I have,” Haldir hissed bitterly. “Elrond...”

“I will join Rumil's search party again,” Glorfindel stated to give Haldir some time to get his tumultous feelings under control. “But I had to come back because we have to discuss how we will proceed from here as soon as possible.”

Elrohir blinked in confusion. “We will send Lothlorien a message, and Mirkwood as well if we have to, asking for help.”

“No.” Erestor shook his head. “If word gets through that orcs could invade Imladris, kidnapping Elrond of all people, it would weaken our position,” he pointed out. “Not only would even more orcs see this as an invitation, but also other sinister creatures since we're derived of Vilya's protection. Not to mention the diplomatic complications.”

“This wasn't just a horde of straying orcs. Only with the help of dark magic could they invade Imladris that deep. It had to be about Vilya.” Darkly, Glorfindel looked from one to the other. “The only question is, who send those rcs.”

“There's many an evil lurking in the shadow that we've lost sight of completely,” Erestor mumbled darkly. “Dark wizards, creatures from the depths of the Misty Mountains, dragons, the list is long. And we have no chance to find out who is behind this.”

“We don't indeed, Elrohir.”

“Couldn't the Istari help? Or grandmother's mirror?” 

“I dread sending out even one single messenger. I fear that the message could fall into the wrong hands,” Glorfindel admitted with a sigh.

“If our enemies don't spread the news of Elrond's abduction in all corners of Middle Earth first to brag about it, we have to keep up appearances. Galadriel will let us now if she has some kind of vision that tells her more about Elrond's whereabouts. She of all people probably knows already. But I don't want to trouble Arwen. For now. Let's be confident that we'll find the orcs' trail again so that we have Elrond back home in a few days again.”

Three weeks later, both search parties returned, exhausted and hopeless. They hadn't found even the slightest trace of Elrond or his kidnappers. The dark magic that had veiled the Orks invading Imladris must be responsible for hiding any traces as well. 

“A big search party would only attract unwanted attention,” Erestor mumbled contemplatively, and looked from one elf to the other. Erestor, Glorfindel, the twins, the Lorien brothers as well as Elrond's inner circle of advisors had, after the search party had rested somewhat, gathered in Elrond's office to consult what would have to happen now. 

“But a small group of Elves? That's a completely different matter. They could turn around every single stone in Middle Earth unobtrusively and ask discreet questions without arousing too much suspicion or that anybody feels threatened by a whole party of Elves.”

“Then we three will go,” Haldir spoke up immediately. His brothers nodded eagerly. 

“No.” Erestor looked at them sharply one after the other. “And you two will stay as well,” he halted the twins before one of them could even open his mouth.

“Elladan and Elrohir, you have to step in for your father, and for that, you need all the support you can get.” 

Rumil and Orophin nodded seriously when Erestor's challenging look met theirs. 

“Glorfindel, Haldir and I will go.” 

“Excuse me?!” Glorfindel burst out  incredulously. “You can't think I'll take you with me on such a dangerous quest.” 

Erestor's withering look let the Captain falter.

“I was a warrior as well a long time ago, Glorfindel, if you should have forgotten that. And a damn good one as well.”

“I dind't forget,” the blond elf admitted heatedly. “But like you said, that was ages ago. You haven't fought since the Last Alliance. What's more, you are the only one who could take Elrond's place should it be necessary. At least when dealing with people who've never seen him.” 

Erestor cocked a sceptical eyebrow. “That would backfire faster than we'd like. And for the fighting; you don't forget something like that.”

“You're rusty,” Glorfindel countered stubbornly, and decisively crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Erestor glared at him. “How do you know?”

“Because I do. But if you want to convince me otherwise, proof it.”

“Excuse me?!” Thunderstruck, Erestor stared at Glorfindel with big eyes. 

“Fight me. If you win, proofing that you still got it, then you may come with us.”

“Really, Glorfindel, that's not really the time nor place...”

“Be quiet, Elladan!” Erestor's fiery look turned onto Glorfindel who stayed unconcerned. As long as Erestor's ire burned like an inferno, he had nothing to fear. He only had to become really worried as soon as Erestor's anger turned freezing cold, but the black-haired elf was too upset and hurt in his pride to even think about that.

“I won't allow you to treat me like an under age elfling, Glorfindel of Gondolin!”

The smug smile suddenly disappeared from Glorfindel's face and gave way to a serious mien who startled the captivated audience. Erestor was also surprised by this sudden change in Glorfindel's mood, so that his anger quickly subsided.

“Don't you understand that I'm worried about you?” Glorfindel insisted heatedly. “I already lost Elrond to those Orks, do you think I could bear losing you as well now?” 

Shocked, Erestor opened his mouth a few times to reply, but Middle Earth's most eloquent diplomat was at a loss for words. For inexplicable reasons, his heart suddenly thumped like mad and in the face of the protective streak that Glorfindel suddenly showed, his whole body began to tingle pleasantly.

Embarrassed, Erestor cleared his throat, stoically ignoring the other elves' amused expressions.

“Very well,” he answered with dignity, but had to still avoid Glorfindel's intense gaze to get the palpable redness on his cheeks Glorfindel's gaze and words had caused under control. “A duel.” He nodded jerkily.

“In this hour.“ Glorfindel nodded in confirmation. “Conquer me and you will accompany us.”

Abruptly, Erestor stood up, and rushed from the room. A self-satisfied, victorious grin played around Glorfindel's features, but he didn't dare to meet the attendants' eyes. Dignified, he rose, and left Elrond's office as well. 

If the situation weren't so serious, each of the remaining elves would have burst out laughing.

Numerous torches, being stuck into the sand of the training grounds, lit up the area. For some inexplicable reason, the news of the duel between Imladris' Captain and Lord Chancellor had spread like wildfire, with numerous spectators lining the training area. Unintentionally, this small, actually hilarious showdown gave Imladris' residents a much needed time-out from their current gloomy situation, and everyone was grateful for that. The sobering morning would catch up with them all soon enough.

Erestor only snorted indignantly when he saw the many onlookers because he didn't want to lose face even more by making a scene here. Glorfindel was already waiting for him with a grin on his lips.

“I thought you had ducked out.” 

“I just wanted to say the same,” Erestor replied with dignity.

The grin froze in Glorfindel's face to a sheepish mien confronted with Erestor's frosty mood – which was his fault, after all –, but he didn't let it show. 

The two opponents faced each other in the ring, their swords tightly clutched in their fists. 

Glorfindel had to swallow involuntarily when he saw Erestor, dressed like a warrior, ready for battle, his normally lose hair drawn back into a warrior's braid, and his sword tightly in his hand. Black leather and soft fabrics clung to Erestor's slender body like a second skin. To be truthful, Glorfindel had forgotten what that sight did to him. Now, he was reminded with a vengeance. 

He almost didn't register how his second in command declared the fight open. With an unmanly yelp, he stumbled back in surprise as Erestor lunged at him immediately.

But then, he caught himself, and parried Erestor's surprisingly powerful strokes vigorously and full of concentration. He really hadn't thought that Erestor was in such good form after all these centuries.

The fight was now in full swing. Loud cheers roared through the nightly silence, but the two opponents perceived nothing apart from each other. They put everything they had into this fight, and although Glorfindel was the more experienced and trained fighter, he soon started to sweat.

A poorly parried prank and suddenly, Erestor broke through his cover. Erestor slapped the sword out of Glorfindel's hand with a loud clink. As the Captain stared stupidly to follow the trajectory of his swirling sword, Erestor gave him a hard kick in the chest. Panting, Glorfindel stumbled back and landed in the sand of the battle ring. Before he could blink, Erestor's weight suddenly pushed him down as he straddled him. The cold, sharp metal of two blades, crossed over Glorfindel's throat, pressed into Glorfindel's skin. Erestor had not only put his sword but also Glorfindel's own which he must have caught in flight, against his throat! He was equally outraged and deeply impressed.

A roaring silence settled over the training ground. Nobody would have expected this outcome of the fight.

The deep breathing of the two opponents was the only sound that echoed into the night air unnaturally loud.

But then, the spectators broke out in deafening applause. 

Glorfindel and Erestor stared at each other, ignoring the rest of the world. Both Elves were all too aware of the proximity of the respective other. The heat of their bodies penetrated their clothes and seemed to heat the air around them. The smell of sweat and leather hung in the air. Glorfindel's nostrils flared as he soaked up Erestor's smell, his heat, the sight of his dilated pupils, and his tousled exterior. All spectators be damned, Glorfindel was on the verge of rolling Erestor around in the damp sand, rip off his garments, and take him here and now...

Erestor leaned a little closer to his face. “We're leaving at dawn,” the black-haired elf declared.

Glorfindel shuddered anew when he felt Erestor's warm breath on his lips. He only would have had to raise his head to bridge the short distance between them, but Erestor's words brought him back into the cruel reality. 

For a split-second, they still stared at each other before Glorfindel nodded curtly, and Erestor's eyes widened, startled, when he realised the position they were in. hastily, he sat up, and pulled the two blades crossed across Glorfindel's throat from the sand. He jumped up, and stared down onto Glorfindel for a last moment before he hurried from the ring. 

Glorfindel stayed on the ground for a few more moments, and tried to proccess what had happened just now. When he got up slowly while enduring the good-natured mocking of his men about his defeat, he was only too glad that the darkness hid his arousal. 

No matter how important and serious the mission was they would embark on for which they had to be in full possession of their strength, tonight, Glorfindel wouldn't find any sleep.

The first beams of light hadn't found their way into the valley yet. Dense fog still wavered over the ground. All amusement of last eve were as if blown away; the small group that had gathered in the courtyard to bid the three warriors farewell mutely watched the last preparations of their journey. 

Glorfindel gave final instructions to his deputy, Haldir to his brothers, while Erestor tried to give the twins final advice. He knew what he was asking of them, and maybe it was not a good idea that he and Glorfindel left Imladris. But he knew that Elladan and Elrohir were up to the task – after all, they didn't have to make the decisions by themselves, they had support –, and he simply had to go. Elrond was his best friend. And although the half-elf trusted in Erestor that he would do anything for Imladris' welfare in his absence, his instinct told him that he had made the right decision to leave now.

He looked into two pairs of large gray eyes that stared at him helplessly. At that moment, he became painfully aware of how young the twins actually were.

Elrohir swallowed, his questing gaze moved over Erestor's familiar, ever composed features, seeking for his former mentor's inner strength and confidence so that they may give him strength. “You will...”

Smiling encouragingly, even though he was only too painfully aware of how bitter his smile must seem, Erestor caressed the cheek of one twin, then the other.

“We won't return home before we have found your father.” 

The “dead or alive” rang painfully in everybody's ears although no one dared to voice it. 

Composed, the twins nodded, and let themselves sink back into their husbands' arms. While they stood as a supportive presence for their husbands, the Lorien Elves had only eyes for their hurting brother. Their gazes met, and they tried to give him comfort through their presence.

Haldir nodded jerkily at them for a last time in farewell, then, he mounted his horse, and steered it towards the gate. 

Glorfindel and Erestor threw a last gaze back onto their home and their family before they followed the Lorien elf into the unknown. 

It was only early morning when Elya left his hut. The dew drops glittering in the first sun beams weren't even dry yet. Green and golden was the light that shone through the roof of leaves of the thick forest at the edge of Mirkwood where his home lay. His way led the dark-haired elf deep into the forrest where he would find the biggest and juciest mushrooms in corners and niches only he knew of. None of the humans of the nearby village dared venture into the dark forrest so deeply, always afraid of evil spirits or demons that were supposed to live there. At least that meant that they didn't come close to his home either. He had to go into the village often enough, more often than he liked. Because, although he could get on by the offerings of the forrest, there were some things he had to seek the humans' company for. Clothes and tools belonged to the things he had to trade, if he liked it or not. Given the contempt and mistrust that the villagers had shown him for centuries, he was always astounded that they were even willing to trade with him. There had also been times when he had to walk to the next settlement for days to trade where he was hardly known or not at all, and where he appeared disguised as well as possible.

Deep in his brooding, which was not uncommon, Elya noticed that something was wrong only when he was only a few metres away from the stream that flowed past his house. At first, Elya couldn't see anything, but he sensed that there was something strange, possibly dangerous. He looked around carefully until his eyes fell on a large, dark something on the bank of the stream. After puzzling at the picture in front of him for a few moments, he realized that it was a person lying there. Uncertain whether he should rush to the obviously needy creature or if he should rather keep his distance, he looked at the stranger for a few minutes. He couldn't see his face, it was turned away from him. Long, black-brown hair framed the stranger's face in tangled, dirty, and blood-encrusted strands. His formerly white shirt, pants and boots were torn and also stained with dirt and blood, old and fresh. It suddenly occurred to him that those who had tortured the stranger like that might still be nearby.

Alarmed, Elya listened to the silence of the forest, stretched out all his senses, but even after a few minutes of listening, he heard nothing menacing. The chirping of the birds sounded like it always did, so there was no danger. Otherwise, they would have warned him. He had been able to rely on the help of the animals before.

He relaxed his body in relief and finally started to move. He carefully bridged the few metres between himself and the stranger, and crouched down next to him. With extreme caution, he turned him on his back, unsure of how badly he was injured. When he saw the man's face for the first time, he froze in shock. After a first inspection of the strange face, his eyes were stuck on his ears. Holding his breath, he carefully reached out, and touched one of the pointed ears that were so amazingly similar to his. He trembled as he pulled his hand back, and instead looked more closely at the other elf again. His hair was as dark as Elya's, his features noble and distinctive, but which also had something gentle about them, and he seemed a little taller than Elya. At the moment, however, the other looked emaciated and exhausted. But even all the blood and dirt could not take away his royal appearance.

At first, it occurred to him that the other elf might be dangerous. After all, the people in the village also saw him as dangerous and sneaky, even though he was only half-elf, half human like themselves. There must be some trutz to it that everyone thought elves were dangerous when they even held such contempt for a mere half-elf. 

But then, Elya's conscience won, and he relentlessly pushed back the remaining uneasiness about the other's lineage. This man needed his help and he would get it.

Elya gently lifted the stranger into his arms, and carried him back to the hut. He was definitely taller than himself, but weighed shockingly little. The fact that he had probably not had enough to eat for a long time could also be seen on his gaunt-looking features, his cheeks were sunken and deep shadows had buried themselves under his eyes. He could see the prominent ribs through the torn shirt.

In his hut, he put his unexpected guest down on his bed, and immediately hurried to find medicinal herbs, provide a bowl with water, a cloth and bandages.

With slightly shaky fingers, he cut the shirt from the stranger's body, then took off his pants and boots which were in much better condition. Elya shivered. Apparently, he had been tortured, and those who had done this to him had mostly limited their work to his upper body.

Resolutely, he dipped the cloth into the herbal water to at least remove the coarsest dirt. Only then could he get a clear picture of the other elf's injuries, and he frowned sympathetically when he took in the wounds. The elf's upper body was littered with cuts, deep blue bruises and burns. His left forearm was very red and swollen, and felt feverishly hot when Elya put his hand on it. He leaned closer over the injured arm, and his eyes narrowed. Apparently, there was something stuck in the wound. He thoughtfully rummaged through his range of healing tinctures and pastes, finally chose a disinfectant and pain reliever and applied it to the wound. The Elf winced for a moment, moaning, but otherwise didn't move. Elya sat very still until he was sure the other wasn't waking up. Then he reached for his tweezers which he had bought many years ago and which had always been very useful, and managed to pull the object carefully out of the wound. He held it up with interest into the light. It looked like the tip of a dagger. Shivering, he dropped the metal into a small bowl in disgust, and then began to bandage the inflamed arm. He hoped that his patient had not contracted blood poisoning. The fine black veins that emanated from the wound like a spider web troubled him deeply, but it didn't look exactly like blood poisoning. But what was it then? Black magic? Some kind of poison the dagger had been soaked in? Possible. Creatures that did this to another living creature could probably be trusted to do something like that. So, maybe he should be looking for some Athelas herbs. They helped against poisons if he remembered correctly.

But first, he washed out the rest of the wounds. He cleaned even the smallest scratch thoroughly for fear of infection. His patient's hands, in particular, were littered with scratches and grazes, as if he had made his way through the undergrowth with his bare hands during which he fell several times, and had tried to intercept his fall with his hands. It had probably been what had happened. Elya winced as he ran the damp cloth over the fingers of the right hand. As if by magic, a golden ring suddenly appeared on the stranger's finger.

“Magic,” breathed Elya, staring in fear for a moment. But the longer he looked at the ring, the faster his fear vanished. He didn't know what it was, but he sensed that the ring wasn't giving off black magic. On the contrary. When he hesitantly touched the dark blue stone of the ring, it was pleasantly warm and seemed to transmit its soothing warmth to Elya.

“Hghn,” he made in astonishment, and rubbed the stone again. But then he shook his head and returned to the here and now. His patient needed him after all. He had no time for such magical games, however fascinating they might be.

After this work was done, he turned to the numerous injuries on the upper body of the alf and treated them as well. Before he could bandage his patient, however, he had to take a look at his back because, with a shudder, he remembered the blood that had soaked the back of the shirt. With extreme caution, he rolled the elf onto his stomach, and froze when he did indeed find numerous wounds here, this time mainly from lashes that had dug deep into skin and flesh. Shaking in disgust at such cruel deeds, he cleaned the wounds, and then covered them with healing paste.

Somehow, Elya finally managed to bandage the Elf's torso after some shuffling him around.

Relieved, he finally let him sink back onto the mattress and covered him up with a blanket. As soon as his patient was awake, he would give him some water, but at the moment, there was nothing more he could do for him than to wet his dry lips with some water.

Therefore, even though he was exhausted, Elya set about preparing a nutritious but easily digestible meal although he didn't know when the elf would actually wake up. He just needed to do something so that maybe he could forget the sight of the terrible wounds and what they implied.

Resolutely and diligently, he first cleared away the bandages and his medicines, then rummaged through his pantry and set about chopping and cutting ingredients which he then mixed into the cauldron over the fire.

Yesterday, he had collected fresh mushrooms and herbs which he also put in the stew, so that he did not have to fall back on his already dried supplies. Fresh ingredients were always better and more nutritious anyway, especially for someone who was malnourished.

In fact, his cooking brought him to other thoughts, and he stirred the cauldron absentmindedly, which was why the sudden low moan behind him scared him to death.

He turned nervously, and looked into a pair of gray, clouded eyes.

“Where,” croaked the stranger in a rough voice.

“No, you mustn't speak,” he warned, quickly reaching for the mug of water that had been ready for hours. “You have to save your strength.”

He sat next to the elf, and gently raised his head to bring the mug to his lips.

“You are safe,” he assured in a low but firm tone while the stranger drank greedily.

Breathing heavily, his head sank back again and Elya put him back on the pillow. Apparently calmed by his words, the elf closed his eyes again, and immediately fell into a deep sleep.

However, his guest's sleep was restless. The other Elf was tormented by fever dreams, which apparently brought him back to his torturers. More than once, Elya jerked up from his bed on the floor in front of the stove, woken by whimpering sounds and screams of terror. Then he jumped up, hurried to the side of the other elf and took his hand firmly in his, speaking comfortingly to him. The sound of his voice seemed to help because the nightmares quickly subsided under his constant murmur.

The Elf slept two days and nights before waking up again. This time, Elya looked into a pair of gray, wise eyes that were no longer clouded by fever and pain.

"You helped me," said the other elf as he studied Elya.

Under the piercing gaze of the weakened elf, Elya suddenly felt nervous and uncomfortable. It seemed to him that the stranger could look into the deepest corners of his soul. He shrugged awkwardly. "Yes, that's right." He carefully sat down on the edge of the bed. "Are you thirsty?"

The other nodded, and Elya helped him sit up before he reached for the cup of water.

“What's your name?” the other elf asked after he had taken a drink. 

“My name is Elya,” he answered. “And with whom do I have the pleasure?”

The other opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped and his already sickly pale skin grew paler. “I... I don't know,” he stammered, suddenly desperate.

Pity gripped Elya, and he hurried to assure the other: “This is only temporary. You have experienced bad things and you want to suppress them. You will see, in a while, you will surely remember who you are.”

The other elf didn't look very convinced, but nodded silently.

“But you still need a name if you want to stay here,” Elya continued.

Big gray eyes looked up at him in astonishment. “Stay here?”

The younger Elf started up indignantly. “Of course. Do you think I'll turn you away?” He continued in a calmer voice, “That goes without saying.” In fact, he had only just decided to take in the strange elf. It wasn't like he really intended to throw him out, but he was a little afraid of the other. He was still weak now, but what if he regained his strength? Would he turn out to be dangerous? Although... Elya looked intently at his new roommate. So far, he seemed to be easy-going and friendly. Maybe that was because of his memory loss, and if the other regained his memories, he might show gratitude and do nothing to Elya before leaving. And then there was the strange magic ring which obviously had no evil power.

“Oh,” breathed the other elf, overwhelmed, deeply moved and grateful. “I thank you.”

“Don't think about it. First of all, concentrate on getting well again. Oh, and the name...” Elya thought hard. He wasn't good at things like that, and so far, creativity had never been required of him. Finally, he shrugged.

“How about I just call you El?”

“All right,” the other elf agreed. He seemed relieved that he seemed to be getting a bit of identity back by that name, even if it wasn't his own.

Els's condition improved steadily over the next few days, but his wounds healed slowly, much more slowly than Elya was used to from his own. He hoped that it was only because of the other elf's malnutrition and that once he had a little more meat on his ribs, he would recover completely and quickly. The Athelas herb actually helped with the wounds, especially the supposed poisoning. The black veins retreated, but the wound did not want to heal completely even after weeks. Regular compresses with Athelas alone brought relief, if not healing. But Elya didn't know what else to do. Even if he had sought help from the villagers, they had no more experience with such injuries than he had...

For Elya, it was a huge change on the one hand not to be alone anymore, but on the other hand not at all. It was nice to live with El. He was helpful and friendly, if a little reserved. At first, he slept a lot, so Elya sometimes even forgot that he was there at all.

Soon after El's arival, Elya started building another bed. One of them sleeping on the floor wasn't a durable solution, and his hut was, after all, big enough to house two beds. And since he was at it, he made a second stool as well. 

Then, he thought about clothes. El's pants, which had been torn, he had patched up in an instant, but his shirt was beyond salvation. Since clothing was one of the things he couldn't make himself, Elya had to go to the village wether he wanted to or not. Because he had recently harvested an excess of honey that he wanted to take to the village anyway, the tailor could surely be tempted to give him a simple shirt or two for it. Maybe he was lucky and the man's wife was there. She was one of the few people who were civilized and quite friendly towards him. He would certainly be able to strike up a more satisfactory deal with her than with her husband.

  
  


"Why do the villagers despise you that much?" El asked when Elya returned from the village that afternoon. He had been successful and presented his booty to a moved El in the form of two shirts and a bale of cloth that the tailor's wife had given him because mice had already done well with the cloth and it was therefore no longer suitable for sale. But El would find a use for it once he cut out the holey parts. And even those he could use as fuel or cloths.

His euphoria over this successful day vanished some when he registered El's question, but he had known that, sooner or later, the other elf would have asked him. Obviously, Elya hadn't been as good in hiding his unease over making this trip into the village. 

Sighing, he put his cup of met aside. He evaded El's questing gaze.

“Because I am an elf,” he explained, and shrugged. He felt El's incomprehensible gaze fixed onto himself. He shrugged again.

“They're afraid of me. Their fear is passed on from generation to generation, it never stops. Sometimes it's better, sometimes not, be we will probably never live together in peace.”

“But... Why are they afraid of Elves?” El frowned. He couldn't remember who he was, but everybody knew that Elves where peacable. Or not? His remaining memories couldn't possibly deceive him so much!

“Beyond the forest, there lies Mirkwood. It's big and dangerous. It's the home of monsters, and whoever sets foot into this forest won't ever come out again.” Elya faltered before he continued in a monotonous voice so as if he simply recite something memorised long ago. “The woodland Elves live there as well, and they are ruled by a irascible king who knows no mercy. They say he practises dark magic, and that he is under a dark curse because he is so greedy.” Helplessly, Elya shrugged. “As far as I know, my mother doesn't even head from Mirkwood – she was a foundling herself that was raised in this area –, and I am not even a full-blooded elf but half-elven, but nonetheless, the villagers think I am as malicious as the woodland Elves.”

“Wait.” El cocked his head questioningly. “Half-elf?”

Elya looked up to his guest. “Yes. My mother told me, before she was killed by a branch that came crashing down, that my father was human, so, I am a half-elf.”

“Hmm...”

“What?” Elya began to squirm under El's suddenly searching, haunting look.

“I think...” El's hand absent-mindedly went to his right ear, keeping his distant gaze fixed on Elya's ears. “I think I'm half-elf too,” he whispered.

“How do you know?” Elya stared at him with big eyes. 

“I just do.” El shrugged. “I think, full-blooded Elves' ears are pointier.”

“Did you remember something?” Elya sat up in excitement.

“No, I...” El touched his forehead. “It was just a fleeting moment, but now it's over...”

The younger elf put his hand sympathetically on his arm. “Your memories will come back.”

However, El looked skeptical.

“If you ask me – and I know you won't – I think it is a colossally stupid idea to just walk into Mirkwood.” Glorfindel looked challengingly from one Elf to another.

At some point, Erestor took pity on Glorfindel and turned around to him in the saddle. “I am well aware of the tense nature of the relationship with Thranduil is, but we have been on the road for so long, Glorfindel. I'm at a loss for what to do next. Thranduil will have resources and maybe contacts that can help us.”

Glorfindel bowed his head and nodded meekly. Erestor was right, but if he was honest, he had little hope of finding Elrond. And finding him alive even less. Haldir clung to his hopes because he loved Elrond and Erestor because he was Elrond's oldest and closest friend, but Glorfindel had been a soldier who had suffered many losses, even his own life. As much as it hurt him, he was aware that there could not always be a happy ending. Not even for Earendil's son.

“Erestor...”

A sound made them reach for their weapons – in the worst case, they were some disgusting dark creatures, at best Thranduil's men who hopefully wouldn’t straight shoot an arrow through their eyes.

“Erestor, Glorfindel, what an unexpected surprise.” Thranduil looked surprised and inquiringly at the unexpected guests his men had brought before him, noticed their exhausted, filthy appearance, but he did not rise from his throne to go meet his guests because his old mistrust gained the upper hand out of his mixed feelings.

Glorfindel stiffened next to Erestor, but the dark-haired elf stepped forward to forestall Glorfindel from doing anything rash. Thranduil was moody enough without Glorfindel's fiery temper making him angry.

He bowed his head respectfully to the king and old friend.

“Please tell us, my king, have you or your people heard anything unusual about the orcs lately?”

Thranduil frowned. “Speak plain, Erestor.”

Erestor sighed and rubbed his forehead. He was probably more exhausted than he thought when his sense of diplomacy left him. “Elrond was kidnapped by orcs,” he said truthfully. He hadn't wanted to mention Elrond's kidnapping for the time being, fearing that the fate of his former best friend might be indifferent to Thranduil, and they would be sent away without learning anything, but now he realized that he had to deal with open cards.

A jolt went through the forest king, and now he actually jumped up from his throne in a flowing movement. Gracefully, he hurried down the steps of the throne to stop just before the other elves. “What do you say?!”

“It happened almost a year ago,” Glorfindel continued the explanation, bit his lower lip in anger and shame. “I don't know how the orcs could invade Imladris, probably through dark magic, but...” His hands clenched into fists and he struggled to regain his composure.

“We managed to keep Elrond's disappearance a secret until now,” Erestor took over again. “We thought it the safest course of action.” 

Thranduil nodded. “Indeed. If other enemies besides the orcs learn that these disgusting creatures have managed to penetrate the heart of Imladris, it could bribe them to similar attacks.” He looked from one elf to the other. “And you haven't been able to find out anything yet?”

“No.” Erestor shook his head, depressed. “But we'll keep looking until we find him.”

“After all this time...”

“I know!” Erestor snapped, and looked at Thranduil desperately.

The king nodded. “I promise to instruct all of my scouts, be it elf or animal, to keep their eyes open. Be my guests in the meantime.”

“We can't,” Erestor objected. “We have to continue with our search.”

He looked up in surprise when he felt Thranduil's hand on his shoulder. A worried expression had found its way onto the king's cold face.

“You are completely exhausted. Please. Leave the search to us for a while, and when you've gained back your strength, I'll let you go.”

Finally, with a sigh, Erestor gave in. “You are right. Thank you.”

“I will take you to your rooms,” prince Legolas said promptly, and emerged from the shadow of the throne where, until now, he had, remained silent and observant.

The three elves gratefully bowed their heads, and followed the young prince out of the throne room.

“I'm really sorry about what happened to Lord Elrond,” the prince murmured sympathetically as he led them through the gloomy corridors of the underground palace. “If we had known earlier, we would have come to your aid.”

“We would have counted on your help, Prince, but we didn't think your father would care what happened to Elrond.”

Legolas hung his head sadly when he heard Glorfindel's bitter words. “I know. Nobody can hold a grudge for as long as my father. But when I look at him right now, I think that maybe he's going through a change of heart.”

“That would be a relief for us all,” Glorfindel nodded.

“I would like to visit your beautiful city more often, and the beauty of Lorien would also seem much more beautiful if I could enter it with a clear conscience, without feeling like I was betraying my father,” Legolas said, the latter to Haldir whom he had met at one time or another during his rare visits.

They finally stopped in front of a couple of closed doors.

“If you need anything, please let one of the guards know. You are of course invited to have dinner with my father and me.”

“We'll be there,” Erestor promised before Glorfindel could protest. “Thank you, Legolas. I am pleased to see that you are still as wise and kind as we remember you.”

Everyone was too clearly aware of the unspoken “Even though you are under the influence of your father”.

Legolas bowed his head gratefully. “This praise coming from you honours me, Lord Chancellor. You have always been a great example for me.”

With another bow towards Glorfindel and Haldir, Legolas moved away.

“Do we have to have dinner with Thranduil?” Glorfindel asked quietly. He was clearly uncomfortable about the prospect.

“We do,” Erestor insisted. “The fact that he offers us his hospitality and his help is more than we could have hoped for. As terrible as Elrond's kidnapping may be, I think Legolas is right and Thranduil is about to let go of his ill feelings out of concern for Elrond's life.”

“If you say so,” Glorfindel sighed. “But you do the talking. I'll just say the wrong thing and annoy him again.”

A painful smile played around Erestor's mouth who, much like Glorfindel, remembered the often heated debates of the two blonde elves in the past who were matching each other in temperament.

Nodding, Erestor turned and entered one of the guest rooms assigned to them.

“I am sorry that I was unable to help you,” Thranduil said, genuinely troubled that his intensive search had let to nothing during the two weeks that the three elves already resided in the kingdom of the forest.

Erestor held out his arm, which the king clasped after some hesitation. “You have done so much for us. Now it's up to us again.”

Thranduil nodded. He looked firmly into Erestor's eyes. “I swear to you, Erestor, if you bring Elrond home safe and sound, I'll do anything to regain his friendship. Hatred and bitterness have eaten me up long enough.”

Erestor smiled. “You and your people are always welcome in Imladris.”

“And in Lorien,” Haldir added on behalf of his lord and lady.

Thranduil nodded, and then stepped back. He watched Erestor, Glorfindel and Haldir mount their well rested horses, and cross the bridge in front of the palace. He stopped at the gates of his kingdom, and watched the three elves go, a prayer to the Valar on his lips until the dark forest swallowed them up.

The new strength, and with it the new hope with which they had left the Mirkwood quickly drained away, and soon, the three friends lost the last ounces of hope to ever see Elrond alive again.

Still, they kept looking. They simply had no other choice. They could not return to Imladris without at least having found a trace. They couldn't do that to Elrond's children. And be it... and be it that they could only bring Elrond's body home...

As they crossed the borders of Mirkwood, Thranduil's animal scouts warned them of a group of orcs threatening to cross their path. For a moment, they considered confronting the evil creatures, maybe they knew something, but the bird that had brought the news to them warned them that the pack was too big for the three exhausted elves. After the bird promised to follow the orcs and eavesdrop on them to report back to the elves immediately, the elves decided to take a different route to avoid the orcs.

They had considered heading for Esgaroth, but were now undecided because the orcs blocked their way from this direction.

“We circumvent them, and take the route south around the Mirkwood,” Erestor decided, looking at his two companions questioningly.

They nodded.

“It's a long way to Esgartoh, and our chances are slim there, but we must try everything,” Haldir agreed with the dark-haired Elf.

They quickly turned their horses around, and took a different direction.

On their unscheduled detour to Esgaroth, the three companions eventually reached the edge of a small human settlement, once more completely exhausted. It lay east of the Mirkwood, on the foothills of a much smaller and, it seemed, more peaceful forest which, although not far from Mirkwood, was so very different from it.

“We should ask for food here,” Glorfindel murmured, patting his exhausted horse's neck. All of them had long since passed the limits of exhaustion, too exhausted to hunt, think or speak, but they went on. They just had to. The almost unreal two weeks of rest that had been granted to them in the Thranduil's palace had not been enough to completely drive the deep-seated exhaustion out of their bones. They probably wouldn't find any peace until they had clarity, no matter what it looked like.

Despite their bone-deep tiredness, the elves remained vigilant as they passed the first humble houses. Their vigilance increased when they spotted the first humans, some of whom looked at them with open hostility and suspicion on their faces, some with shocked fear.

Slowly but surely, they began to feel uneasy that their request for food would not be fulfilled here.

Reaching the village square, a loud riot suddenly caught their attention. Apparently, a young man was beaten up by several other teenagers, but no one tried to intervene.

Erestor sat up straight in the saddle when he saw this, but Glorfindel reached for him quickly.

“Leave it!” he hissed warningly. “We're going to have a hard enough time here as it is.”

“Maybe it would be best to move on,” Haldir suggested quietly, and the others were about to agree when Erestor made a startled sound that caused Glorfindel spin around.

“What...” Glorfindel fell silent because he already realised what Erestor had noticed. They were still a long way from the brawl, but his sharp elven eyes could make out every detail clearly. Therefore, he could also spot the pointed ears of the young man who was desperately trying to defend himself.

“He's an elf,” Haldir whispered beside him.

“A lright, that's it now,” the blonde warrior said resolutely, and drove his heels into Asfaloth's flanks. He would not have interfered in a human affair, as he had to admit with shame, since they already seemed unwelcome here, and they could not afford any trouble, but now, it was another elf in danger, and he could not help stepping, regardless of all dangers.

He sensed Erestor and Haldir securely at his back, heard Erestor draw his sword and Haldir draw his bow.

“Stop!”

Shrilly whinnying, Asfaloth came to a stop, his hooves pounding, and looked down at the struggling youngsters with fiery eyes and trembling nostrils.

Some of the people noticed the furiously prancing horses and their armed riders, and hurriedly got up from the dusty ground to back away. The rest soon noticed their friends' nervousness and also let go of the elf. Startled, full of hatred and suspicion, the young men stared at the strange elves, their fists clenched.

“Leave him alone!” Glorfindel barked. The commanding tone he struck made even the defiant youngsters obey. Slowly, they stepped back from the elf lying on the ground who struggled up, gasping, and brushing the dust off his worn clothes. He glared furiously at his attackers, causing them to retreat a little further, though they still looked as if they would pounce on the elf again at any moment.

“Get lost.”

Erestor's voice was calm and quiet, the exact opposite of Glorfindel's, but the humans obeyed him, too. After all, he could bring every stubborn diplomat, king or general to their knees with a single glance and his calm, icy words, then he now wouldn't fail confronted with a few rude humans.

The people stayed where they were for a moment, but after realising, intimidated but nonetheless still full of hate, that they stood no chance against the heavily armed elves, they ran away, dashing between the houses and disappearing into the crowd that had gathered and eyed the strangers suspiciously.

Glorfindel and Haldir kept a vigilant eye on the villagers while Erestor shoved his sword back into his scabbard, and dismounted to take care of the banged up elf. When he advanced on him, the elf shrinked back from Erestor, equally as suspicious of them than the humans. Baffled, Erestor froze on the spot. 

“We don't want to do you any harm,” the dark-haired elf tried to make clear in the tongue of the humans. “We only want to help you.”

The other still eyed him distrustfully, but at least didn't backed off any more. “I'm unhurt,” he explained brusquely, and was still motionless confronted with the strange elves.

Meanwhile, Erestor took the opportunity to take a closer look at the other elf. Long dark hair framed a striking face with dark, gray eyes that glared at them, untamed and proud. The clothes covered a thin but sinewy body. Erestor's eyes paused on his ears. Too round to be of pure elvish blood. So, half-elf, Erestor thought. The young male's handsome features were too coarse, his skin too dark, and the human legacy flashed through clearly. Somehow, he looked familiar to Erestor, but it was just a vague feeling that he couldn't pinpoint.

“Why are you afraid of us?” Erestor heard Glorfindel's voice behind his back. 

The other elf turned his gaze from him to Glorfindel. “Because Elves are up to no good,” he answered without hesitation. “The people here believe you are evil wizards. Like the ones living in Mirkwood. Nothing good comes from there either.”

“You are an elf as well.” 

The young man snorted cynically. “Why do you think they proceed against me?”

“No.” Erestor shook his head. “He means, why are you afraid of us as well, your own people?” 

“You can't live for centuries amongst people who think you evil and depraved without believing it yourself one day.”

“But Elves aren't evil,” Haldir barged in angrily.

The young elf shrugged. “I started believing that.”

Driven by the young man's strange words, all of a sudden, a fervent inkling which he could not even name gripped Erestor, and he perked up. “Why?” he asked. “Have you met other elves who have taught you otherwise?”

The young elf looked at him again with suspicion, but then nodded hesitantly. „Comes with. We shouldn't remain here any longer.”

He was right. The three elves' weapons and the powerful, furious horses kept the humans away for the moment, but certainly not forever.

Without turning around again to them to see if they would follow, the elf headed towards the edge of the village, directly towards the forest.

Without looking back again either, Erestor, Glorfindel and Haldir followed.

After they passed the village border and headed for the forest, everyone felt the tensionleave them

“What's your name?” Erestor asked, still leading his horse by the reins so he could walk beside the young elf. Glorfindel and Haldir remained on their horses, their weapons still within reach just in case. 

“Elya,” the elf replied. 

“These are Glorfindel and Haldir. I am Erestor.” 

“Hmpf. And what are you doing here? It's been ages since Elves have been here in these woods. Except me.”

“We have been looking for a friend of ours for many months now,” Glorfindel explained shortly. “He was abducted by rcs and we won't be going home until we find him.”

“His name is Elrond,” Erestor continued, watching Elya closely. However, the other only shrugged.

“I don't know anyone with that name.”

“But you know an elf?” Erestor continued.

Elya shrugged again. “A few months ago I found a badly injured elf passed out here in the forest. After I took care of his wounds, he woke up, but couldn't remember anything. Since then, he has been living with me.” Apologetically, Elya looked at his three new acquaintances. “I thought maybe he was just so nice because he can't remember his true identity, but I decided he was a good man... and that you are, too. You helped me, after all.”

Erestor tossed a small encouraging, victorious smile over his shoulder at his two companions. At least the other elf no longer distrusted them.

“What does he look like?” Glorfindel asked, trembling with curiosity, because he and Haldir now understood Erestor's hopeful notion which prompted him to question the young half-elf so thoroughly.

“A bit like you,” Elya nodded at Erestor. “But he's half-elven, like me.”

All three friends froze at the words, and Elya looked at them in surprise.

“Half-elf,” Haldir whispered.

“Yes,” Elya replied, slowly beginning to suspect that fate might have miraculously brought him together with friends of his guest. He thought hard for a moment. “He's wearing a gold ring.” He held up his right hand. “A strange thing. It is invisible, and only appears when it comes into contact with water. It has a blue stone, I think.”

“It's him,” Erestor whispered, his voice breaking with his suddenly bursting emotions.

“How far is it to your hut?” Glorfindel asked urgently. He could barely rein in Asfaloth, he was that eager to rush away which carried over to the stallion. He glanced sideways at Haldir who had turned pale and trembled.

It was now clear to Elya that they knew El, and he smiled at them, relieved and happy that his friend would finally see his friends again. “A walk of about ten minutes.”

“Completely unacceptable!” Haldir gasped, urged his horse close to Elya, and grabbed the startled young man by the arm to pull him onto the horse with a flowing movement. Elya could barely cling to Haldir quickly enough when the other elf had already let his horse's reins lose.

Erestor and Glorfindel hurried to catch up with them.

A few moments later, they reached Elya's log cabin at the little stream. The three elves stopped their horses and jumped down as Elya struggled to get off the horse.

The door was opened at the noise of the hooves.

“Elrond!” Erestor called, and started running, closely followed by his two blonde companions.

Elrond stared in shock at the three elves who came rushing towards him. “Erestor,” he whispered instinctively when his best friend reached him first and threw himself into his arms. As if paralysed, he wrapped his arms around Erestor, forgetting the permanent dull pain in his wound for the moment, and buried his face in the thick black mane. At the same time, he felt Glorfindel and Haldir embracing him, too, who crowded close to them so that he was encircled by his two most loyal friends and his lover.

Suddenly, everything came rushing back, as if his memories had never been gone, as if a breath of fresh wind had simply blown aside the thick curtain that had hung between him and his memories. He'd been struggling so hard to remember all these months and now, it was so easy. He couldn't describe how happy and relieved he was. He shivered with happiness, and tightened his good arm around Erestor's waist.

Overwhelmed and at a loss, Elya stood by and watched with mixed emotions as his friend – Elrond, if he remembered correctly – embraced his friends. He was happy for him, of course, but that also meant that El... Elrond would leave. And he would be alone again. It hadn't bothered him for centuries. He hadn't known anything else, but since El lived with him, he couldn't imagine a life in loneliness again.

Clenching his lips tightly, he sneaked past the four elves into the house to provide refreshments and give them a little time for themselves.

The friends held each other for long minutes before finally separating from each other. Elrond looked happily at his friends one by one while the other three absorbed the sight of their lost friend. Finally, Elrond's gaze came to rest on Haldir. They looked into each other's eyes for a few seconds.

Of course, Erestor and Glorfindel didn't miss this intimate eye contact, but before they could give the two lovers time to themselves, they had to know what had happened, how it had happened that Elrond had found himself here.

“Elrond, what happened back then?” Erestor asked bluntly.

The half-elf shrugged, his gaze dropping from Haldir with a heavy heart. However, his expression darkened when he started his report. “They took me straight to Dol Guldur. As it turned out, the fortress isn't as deserted as we all thought. They were probably after Vilya. The orcs tortured me, but they still couldn't get a word out of me.” Elrond shivered. He was overjoyed to have his memories back, but he could have very well done without the memories of the torture. “After a few days, they wanted to take me to Cirith Ungol, but on the way there, the orcs were attacked and dispersed by Thranduil and his men.”

“What ?!” Glorfindel cried, outraged. “Why didn't they help you?! Typical Thranduil! And he tells us that he sympathises with your fate, and would be happy to hear that you are well.”

“Don't blame him,” Elrond appeased his quick-tempered Captain. “It all happened so quickly and it was chaos and slaughter. I used thise chance to escape. I didn't know where to and didn't look back, I just wanted to get away from the orcs. Even if I had stayed, Thranduil's people would probably not have recognized me at all, and maybe even killed me in the heat of the moment because they thought I was an Orc. There wasn't much left of me that might have seemed familiar to him.” Elrond shrugged again. “Anyway, I managed to drag myself here before I passed out. The next thing I remember is waking up in Elya's hut and having no memory of the past.”

The other three Elves remained silent when they learned of Elrond's ordeal, but Erestor didn't look grave for that reason alone. “Elrond, could you find out who send those orcs?”

“No. But it has to be someone very powerful. Even I hadn't noticed that the orcs had invaded Imladris until it was too late.”

“We have to keep that in mind,” Erestor murmured. “There seems to be something much bigger going on than we are aware of.”

They all nodded seriously.

But then, Elrond's gaze fell on Haldir again, and he turned to his friends. "Would you give Elya a hand inside?”

His two advisors didn't have to pick up the meaningful look Elrond gave them to know what Elrond asked of them.

Nodding without a word, they disappeared into the hut.

Exhausted by the startling events of the past half hour, Elrond dropped onto the roughly made bench in front of the hut. He heard his two most faithful friends inside, their voices muffled along with Elya's through the crack of the door that had been left ajar. Haldir stood beside him, lost. He looked up at the silver-haired elf, and grabbed Haldir's hand with his good arm. With a slight jerk, he motioned for the other elf to sit next to him.

Haldir followed Elrond's gesture uncertainly, and now, he was lost for words as they sat side by side on this bench somewhere in the middle of nowhere. The euphoria of reunion was gone. Not that he wasn't overjoyed to see Elrond alive, but now that it was all over, he was painfully aware of what he had wanted to do on the evening of Elrond's kidnapping.

“Haldir...”

The two elves looked up at the same time to look each other deep in the eye, and Haldir swallowed when he saw the painful but determined look in Elrond's gray eyes. What did that look mean?

Elrond squeezed Haldir's hand tighter, and moved a little closer to him so that her thighs touched. Then he let go of the hand and stroked his own gently over Haldir's cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered. He watched uncertainly as Haldir's hazel eyes widened in disbelief, not knowing how to interpret the Galadhel's reaction. “No matter what happens to us from now on, I just had to tell you, even if you are only interested in a physical relationship,” Elrond quickly continued in his explanation, fearful of Haldir's reaction. “I vowed that if I came out of Dol Guldur alive, I would tell you. I...”

Elrond didn't get any further because Haldir suddenly wrapped his arms around the half-elf and pulled him into an intimate, relieved kiss. Elrond wrapped his good arm around Haldir's waist as he returned the kiss with all the love and passion he felt for the Lorien elf.

“I love you too,” Haldir whispered as they separated from each other after long moments, his voice broken with tears. “For decades now,” he said desperately, covering Elrond's face with hasty, loving kisses between his words.

“But,” stammered the half-elf.

“How did you ever think that I just want an affair?” Haldir asked with a pain-contorted smile.

“I... back in our first night... when I mentioned my promise to Celebrian, I was going to tell you that I wasn't ready for a new relationship, I wanted you to wait for me, but you continued, and so I thought you were only interested in my body anyway.”

An ironic, bitter smile appeared on Haldir's face, and he shook his head in disbelief. “What fools we were!” he whispered, looking Elrond in the eye. “I should have let you finish, but since I thought you meant to tell me that your heart was forever bound to Celebrian, and you couldn't give me more than your body, I wanted to at least have that night.”

Elrond's eyes widened in shock. “Two fools, indeed!” he replied incredulously.

Haldir took Elrond's good hand with both hands – he had long noticed how carefully Elrond was moving this arm, but they would take care of it in a few minutes –, and brought the cool fingers to his lips to kiss them. “Now that we know the truth... Elrond, I need you. So much...” He pressed another breathless kiss onto Elrond's knuckles. “I want to be with you for the rest of my life.

Elrond extracted his hand with gentle force from Haldir's grasp who looked at him uncertainly. He slipped his hand to Haldir's neck and, pulled the silver-haired Galadhel to him for an intimate kiss.

“That's my wish as well,” he replied after they breathlessly broke apart.

Tears ran down their cheeks, but both elves laughed freely, so heartily and long, until Erestor finally found them that way. Frowning, he looked down at his two friends who looked up at him a little sheepishly as they tried to catch their breaths. He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“We were such fools, Erestor,” Elrond laughed, pressing close against Haldir.

Erestor cocked his other eyebrow as well, unimpressed. “I already gathered that. Believe me, if the orcs hadn't preempted me, I would have forced you both to have a little talk. As if I hadn't noticed that you two were feeling miserable.”

The other two elves smiled sheepishly.

Erestor's grimace softened and he nodded towards the door. “But come in now. Elya has finished dinner.”

During dinner, they took the opportunity to update each other. Elrond noticed how quiet Elya was, and he decided have a talk with his friend as soon as possible. But first of all, he wanted to take care of his arm after having eaten. Now that he had his memories back, he also knew what had to be done. The Athelas had eased his pain so far, but the wound had never healed. It was only now that he realized that it was probably only thanks to Vilya's strength that he had not slipped into the shadow world long ago already. It was probably best if he didn't let any of his friends know how lucky he had been. They had had enough to worry about in the last year. And his children. He grimaced painfully. What his children must have gone through, having to live with the fact that, in all likelihood, they had lost their father now as well after already losing their mother. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to leave as soon as possible to embrace his children. But he had to restrain himself a little. There was still enough to be done here before he could go home. First of all...

After Elrond let his healing powers flow into his wound, whereupon the pain really left him for the first time in months, he took a quiet minute to sit down with Elya. His three friends had long since fallen asleep, exhausted to the core, but now that they had accomplished their mission, all the weight fell off their shoulders, and they could fall into a carefree sleep for the first time in nearly a year.

Elrond longed to hug Haldir to whom he had assigned his bed while Glorfindel and Erestor lay curled up in front of the fireplace. And as soon as he spoke to Elya, he would join his lover. But first, he had to talk to his friend and savior whose sad expression had haunted him all evening.

“What's going on, hm?” he asked quietly as he sat down at the table with Elya.

The younger elf didn't react at first, but stared spellbound at Erestor and Glorfindel. Elrond followed his gaze.

“I forgot that it was like that with pure-blooded elves,” Elya muttered absently. “My mother also slept with her eyes open, and at some point explained to me that only half-elves sleep with their eyes closed, like humans.”

“That's right,” Elrond confirmed, but didn't take his eyes off Elya.

The young elf's gaze hung on the sleeping elves for a few moments before, with a sigh, he turned to Elrond.

“It was all a bit much today, that's all.”

Elrond just stared at him expectantly with a raised eyebrow.

Elya sighed again. “All right. It's... hard to believe who you really are.”

“I'm still the same,” Elrond countered softly.

“Yeah, but...” Elya shrugged his shoulders.

Elrond, seeing that Elya was still confused and full of doubts, put a careful hand on his arm and squeezed encouragingly.

“Nothing will change between us,” he promised. “You have my word.”

Elya squinted shyly at Elrond. He nodded because the conviction in Elrond's voice calmed him. Still... Everything would change because soon, maybe tomorrow, Elrond would leave, go back to his family, and Elya would be alone again.

“Sleep a little, Elya. Tomorrow, the world will look different again.”

Elya nodded again, and said good night to Elrond. Elya watched wistfully as Elrond carefully sat on his bed, and hugged the silver-haired elf, Haldir. The latter sensed the proximity of his lover and instinctively nestled against the half-elf in his sleep.

Elya turned away sadly.

It was already noon when Glorfindel, Erestor and Haldir awoke. They started in shock.

“Why didn't you wake us?” Glorfindel cried.

“Why should I have done that,” Elrond countered. “You needed sleep. It's not as if you missed a council meeting.”

Glorfindel let out a moan, and slapped his hands over his face. “Don't remind me! How can I ever get used to that again?”

“You'll manage,” Erestor teased next to him. “We will help you with that.”

Glorfindel spread his fingers to glare at Erestor through them. “That's what I'm afraid of.”

The other elves shook their heads with a smile, and Elya could now finally start their breakfast.

When Erestor, Glorfindel, and Haldir, in quiet agreemend, started packing up their things after breakfast, Elrond knew that his time here was over. So, before he gathered his few belongings as well – even if he no longer needed them in Imladris, it would be wrong to leave these things here –, he turned to Elya who was watching them with undisguised melancholy as they packed.

“Come with us,” Elrond asked, taking Elya's hands. “I am reluctant to leave you here, at the mercy of the humans' moods and fears.”

“You will not lack for anything in Imladris, and you are safe there,” Erestor added, immediately supporting Elrond's proposal when he saw Elya's skeptical, even overwhelmed look.

Although his heart had jumped at Elrond's unexpected offer, he couldn't help but express his concerns, “I don't know. Here I am despised for my elvish blood. I will be distrusted there because of my human blood.”

“That's not true,” Glorfindel said before Elrond could do it. “Elrond is one of the most powerful and wise elves in Middle Earth and he is half-elf. His children, too. Nobody will act hostile to you in Imladris.”

Still undecided, Elya looked up at Elrond whom, despite all of Elrond's reassurances, he still saw in a completely new light now. But he strictly refused to be afraid of him just because he now knew that his former guest and only friend was a very powerful man. He wanted to take Elrond's promise that nothing would change between them. “Have you ever been despised for your human blood? Or your Elvish?”

“Yes, but that was a long time ago,” answered Elrond truthfully. “I was still a child.”

“Nobody would dare to do something like that today, and if he did, he'd have to answer to us!” Glorfindel assured fervently.

Erestor nodded. “Glorfindel is right. Imladris is a refuge and Elrond is master there. He, we all will not allow you to be bothered in any way.”

Elya looked longingly at the floor. “I always wanted to be able to live in a place where I was accepted, where I even had friends,” he murmured.

“Then why are you still hesitating?” Elrond looked questioningly at the younger elf.

He shrugged. “I've been alone all my life, and now you are suddenly offering me the chance of a real home. Everything just happens so quickly, that's all.”

“This is understandable, but you have all the time in the world to get used to it,” promised Elrond. “Rest assured that you can count on the help of us all. You can come to me at any time.”

Elya looked up again, his gray eyes suddenly determined. “I will come with you. I have no other choice.”

“You couldn't remain alone anymore,” Elrond correctly interpreted Elya's words.

The latter nodded.

“Not now that I know what it's like to have a friend,” he confirmed.

Elrond smiled. “Then come. Let's pack.”

Elya nodded.

It was a strange feeling to leave home behind. Every few metres, Elya turned behind Glorfindel in the saddle until he could no longer see the nondescript hut where he had spent his four hundred years of life. It was just a place, nothing getting attached to, and certainly not to the people who lived here, but still, he felt strange. It was only thanks to Elrond that he didn't ride into his new life shaking with fear. Without the other half-elf, he would never have found the courage to go. Where else should he go, after all since he didn't know anyone in the world?

When they left the forest behind, Elya breathed a sigh of relief.

“We should take a detour through Mirkwood,” Erestor suddenly suggested, and he saw out of the corner of his eye how Elrond grimaced and Elya winced, startled. “I know, my friend. And I promise we will avoid Dol Guldur, but we should ask Thranduil for food and two more horses. Otherwise, our journey back home will probably take even longer.”

Elrond chewed on his lower lip. Erestor was right, of course. They would be much slower if two of the horses always had to carry two riders. “You're probably right,” he finally gave in, even if he was reluctant to pass Dol Guldur again.

“Good. Then, that's settled. Thranduil's healers can take another look at your arm.” 

“I'm perfectly able to take care of my injury myself,“ protested Elrond, but Haldir suddenly put his hand on his that was clutching the pommel in front of him. He looked over his shoulder at the silver-haired elf in surprise.

„Please, don't be so stubborn. We are all worried about you.“

Elrond's features relaxed, and he sighed with a contrite smile. He leaned back against Haldir's chest. „I'm sorry. It's just... it was all a bit much.“

„That is understandable, Elrond. We are all still overwhelmed by the events of the past few days.” Erestor smiled and indicated to his friend that he did not hold his stubborn behaviour against him.

Elrond wasn't sure who was more afraid of meeting the king of the woodland realm; Elya or himself. Even if the reasons for this were, of course, completely different. Elya was going to get over the deep-seated prejudice and superstition – especially against Thranduil, it seemed, which made Elrond smile – that had been instilled in him for centuries. Elrond, on the other hand, did not know how to behave if his former close friend chose to behave hostilely towards him. All he could do was trust his friends' words that Thranduil really did want to start over.

Elrond followed Prince Legolas with a pounding heart who had warmly welcomed the guests, and was genuinely relieved that Elrond was doing well.

And then he stood in front of the ostentatious king's showy, intimidating throne. This metre-high structure, from which one looked down on everything and everyone, fit so well with Thranduil's proud, haughty being that it made Elrond almost smile.

But when the blonde king rose and slowly walked down the steps, still as breathtakingly beautiful as he had been hundreds of years ago, all the amusement vanished from Elrond. He was suddenly subjected to Thranduil's piercing, scrutinizing gaze who wouldn't take his eyes off the way he appeared before the extremely vain king; dressed like a peasant rather than a lord. Appearance had never been particularly important to him, not like Thranduil, and normally, he would not have been ashamed of his appearance, but there was something about Thranduil that made everyone feel inferior with just a look, an unimpressed twitch of an eyebrow. It had driven Elrond – and especially the sometimes hot-tempered Glorfindel – livid at times. Here and now was no exception.

Thranduil came to a stop in front of Elrond, and for a few seemingly endless minutes, the two mighty elves stared at each other relentlessly.

Then suddenly, to the shock of everyone present, Thranduil bridged the last step between them, and embraced Elrond tightly.

For a moment, Elrond was as if paralysed, but when Thranduil's soft “I'm sorry” reached his ear, he overcame his shock, and returned the embrace, heartfelt. 

Although he was happy about the reconciliation with Thrandul, he didn't want to spend any more time in Mirkwood. He was driven hime to his children. 

And so, the Imladris Elves said goodbye to Mirkwood after only a short while, and set off for their long journey back to the Last Homely House.

Everyone felt a weight being lifted from their hearts when finally, after weeks on the street, Imladris appeared below them in the valley, bathed in glistening golden afternoon light.

The patrol had noticed their presence since they passed the Bruinen and gave them silent escort. It was as if the whole valley was breathing a sigh of relief when Elrond and Vilya crossed the border of Imladris, as if a dark shadow that had fallen over the valley had finally disappeared.

Notice of their approaching party had already reached the Last Homely House, because the small group was expected by a huge reception committee in the courtyard.

When Elrond discovered his children in the front row – even Arwen had returned from Lorien –, there was no stopping him or the younger half-elves. As soon as he slid off his horse, the young half-elves threw themselves into his arms. The rest of Elrond's household held back with respect, but all of them burst into cheers and applause as they witnessed the Peredhel family's emotional reunion.

Laughing and crying at the same time, the three young half-elves detached themselves from their father to be able to look at him, but never let go of him.

“Ada,” Arwen breathed, choking. “We thought...”

“I know.” Elrond leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Me too.”

The twins' eyes narrowed as they examined their father's appearance.

“You should come to the hospital wing with us, Ada,” Elladan said sternly, and his twin nodded vigorously.

“Nonsense.” Elrond waved his hand dismissively. “I'm fine again. Thanks to Elya.” Seeing his chance to distract his children from the impending visit to the hospital wing, he pulled Elya into their midst. “He saved me and took him in.”

The Peredhel children bowed their heads.

“Then we are indebted to you forever,” Arwen said gratefully.

Elya blushed under the attention of the three half-elves. “No, no, that went without sayong, of course.”

The siblings looked at each other knowingly, but did not disagree.

“Come on,” Arwen continued, hooking her arm through Elya's. “I will show you to your rooms while my brothers accompany our father to the hospital wing.”

Elrond groaned in agony, but none of his children listened to his protest.

“Excellent idea,” Haldir intervened, and grabbed Elrond by the elbow to gently force him towards the hospital wing.

“Traitor,” Elrond mumbled, but followed without resistance.

The last echo of Elrond's unsuccessful protests and the mothering words of his children and Haldir gradually faded as the reunited family disappeared into the house towards the hospital wing. Erestor and Glorfindel remained in the courtyard, exhausted to the core, dirty and hungry, but overjoyed and relieved.

“It's done,” Erestor sighed in relief and let his tense shoulders drop. He felt as if a heavy burden had suddenly fallen off him.

“Yeah, we've done it,” Glorfindel agreed intently, suddenly grabbing Erestor's arm and pulling the dark-haired Elf around. Erestor's startled gasp was suffocated by Glorfindel's lips which pressed passionately and demanding on his. Without thinking, Erestor wrapped his arms around Glorfindel and returned the kiss.

“What...” Now, for the second time in his life, Erestor was lost for words when, after a long minute, he broke away from Glorfindel's soft lips to gasp for breath.

“We may be blessed with an apparently endless life, but we are not immortal, as the past year has shown us once again,” said the golden-haired elf seriously. “From now, on I no longer want to hide my feelings. Life can be over every day and that's why I want to take advantage of and savour every minute... I should know best how suddenly life can be over, but I was so happy and carefree that I forgot about it again.”

Erestor nodded slowly. “Maybe it's good that we were reminded of it. There was a happy ending this time, but...”

Glorfindel didn't let him finish. They understood each other. Instead, he pulled Erestor into his arms again to give him another kiss. However, this one differed completely from the last one. Desperate passion had given way to calm contentment and bliss.

“I love you, Erestor,” Glorfindel whispered.

“I think I could be persuaded to reciprocate your feelings,” Erestor replied with a sly smile.

“Oh, thank you, how very kind of you, Mylord,” Glorfindel mocked, insulted, and then put an arm around Erestor's waist.

“Come on,” he said, pulling Erestor towards the house. “We should first wash up and eat something. And tonight...” A promising, lustful smile appeared on Glorfindel's lips.

Erestor laughed, shaking his head. “Tonight, my dear, I'm going to sleep. Like a stone.” He stopped and turned back to Glorfindel. The sarcastic grin had given way to a gentle smile full of love and affection. “But only in your arms, my golden warrior,” he whispered.

Glorfindel's whole face lit up when he heard these words, and suddenly, there was still plenty of strength he could muster up, reinforced by his good fortune, to grab Erestor and to spun him around exuberantly, and then kiss the breathless and bewildered laughing elf again stormily. The Captain deliberately ignored the cheering laughter of the elves present, mainly consisting of Glorfindel's soldiers. Erestor, however, turned bright red in the face, and broke off brusquely from Glorfindel. “Come with me,” he grumbled, and pulled the amused Captain into the house.

Normal life, as it had been before Elrond's kidnapping, came back surprisingly quickly after his return. For a while, the twins continued to run Imladris to give both their father and Erestor as well as Glorfindel time to fully recover. But after a short time, both Erestor and Elrond returned to their offices. Glorfindel, on the other hand, would like to have very well avoided resuming his work so early, especially since he had discovered a new favorite activity for two that was best enjoyed in bed, but he obeyed Erestor and resumed his duties.

Elya, on the other hand, took his time to explore his new home and get to know its residents in great detail. Arwen actively supported him, and introduced him to every elf they ran into. Elya was relieved to find that the villagers' fears and prejudices, which he had believed himself by now, were utter nonsense. The elves here were friendly and helpful, and certainly not as scary as King Thranduil. But, contrary to Elya's fears, even he hadn't been an evil dark wizard either.

Often enough, Elya sat alone in his room to dig through books though.

This afternoon found im immersed in his reading once more. He was so absorbed in a chronicle of the First Age that the knock on his door startled him.

“Come in,” he called, blinking in surprise at the door.

Elrond entered thereafter, and smiled when he found Elya almost buried under a stack of books. The young half-elf spent a lot of time improving his general knowledge. Elrond had advised him not to rush it, but the younger one sometimes seemed uncomfortable in the presence of Imladris’ residents because he was not as well educated as them, even if nobody would say anything about it. That was why Elrond did not comment on the admirable eagerness of the younger elf to learn.

Elya looked at the older half-elf as he approached him. It was still odd for him to see Elrond in fine robes that could have been made for a king. And especially with the tiara on his brow. But it was even more startling that he now wore clothes made of the finest fabrics as well, and slept in a luxurious room which was bigger than his hut, not even counting the bathroom.

“I just wanted to inquire you if you have settled in already,” Elrond asked, pulling Elya out of his musings. “I'm sorry that we haven't had a chance to talk in the past few days.”

“That's quite alright.” The younger one shrugged. “Everything is still very new to me. But everyone is incredibly nice and wants to help me wherever they can. Especially your children and Haldir treat me like I'm special. Likewise Erestor and Glorfindel, who are a great help to me in improving my knowledge.”

“Well, they're all grateful to you for what you've done for me.”

Elya made a face. “I didn't do much. I feel like I don't deserve your respect. I'm really nothing special.”

Elrond smiled and sat down on the sofa with Elya after moving a few books aside. Secretely, he wondered with amusement whether there were any books left in the library or if they had all ended up here. “Do them a favor and let them,” he advised. “And you are wrong, without your help and your care, I would probably be dead or worse. You took good care of me and gave me a home. Do not diminish your deeds, and above all, not your good heart.”

“I'll try to think differently about it from now on,” the younger elf promised with relief.

“What I wanted to ask you though...” Elrond visibly hesitated which made Elya curious. “You told me about your mother, but I've been wondering for a while now if you don't know anything about your father at all?”

“Why do you want to know all of a sudden” Elya asked, surprised again.

“My twin brother and I grew up without our parents, and I thought... I wanted to try to give you something back. Maybe we'll find your family.”

Elya smiled. It was rare that Elrond was so flustered for words. “That's kind of you. But you know that my father has been long dead.”

“Of course I'm aware of that. But I thought you might like to know.“

Elya sighed thoughtfully and leaned back. „You're right. Even if the knowledge wouldn't be of any use to me, I still would have liked to know who my father was from time to time. And even if his descendants didn't want anything to do with me, it would be nice to know if I still have any relatives anywhere. Or where I'm from.” He looked at Elrond. “And yes, I have something that once belonged to my father.”

This made Elrond listen carefully since Elya had never even hinted at it.

Elya opened the top fastenings of his tunic, and pulled out a pendant on a leather strap. He handed it to Elrond. “It's the only thing I own from my father.”

Elrond carefully took the pendant and looked at it. He froze when he saw at it closely for the first time.

Elya, who noticed Elrond's sudden change in mood, became restless. “What is it?” he asked anxiously. “Do you know the coat of arms on the pendant?”

Elrond had to force himself to nod, he was that shocked. His throat felt tight, preventing him from speaking. His vision blurred as tears came to his eyes.

“Elrond, what's the matter!?” Elya exclaimed, and took Elrond's free hand. He squeezed it in panic.

Then Elrond looked up and there was a strange expression in his eyes. Elya felt like Elrond was suddenly looking at him with completely different eyes.

“It is my brother's coat of arms,” he finally managed to get out, whereupon Elya froze.

“Your... brother?!” he whispered incredulously.

“That would mean that your father was most likely one of Elros' descendants.”

The younger elf stared at him speechlessly, unable to grasp a clear thought. But after a few moments, only one realization made it through his troubled feelings.

“Do you... Does that mean we are related to each other?!” Elya breathed and now tears came to his eyes, too. “Really related?”

Elrond nodded. “I guess that's what it means.”

“We... are a family?” Elya choked because he didn't dare hope.

Elrond just nodded, overwhelmed by the revelations of the past few minutes.

Elya stared at the older elf for a few moments with large, tear-wet eyes, but then he wrapped his arms around Elrond, overwhelmed, scrolls and books flew aside in his enthusiastic happiness.

Startled by Elya's reaction, Elrond returned the hug and pulled the young Elf to himself. If you thought about it more closely, then Elya's reaction, who had been struggling all his life without knowing where he came from, was not surprising. Elrond was happy that he was now able to repay his debt with more than giving him his own rooms and clothing. That he was able to give Elya the family he had always wanted, a real family that was connected not only by love but even by blood.

“Let's tell the others,” he suggested a few minutes later which caused Elya to draw back abruptly in shock.

“You...” Elya stared at him with wide eyes again. “You want your family to know?!”

Confused, Elrond frowned. “Of course. Why wouldn't I want that?”

“Well... Maybe... It's not really reputable to have a bastard in one's family.”

His grey eyes flashing with sudden anger, Elrond grabbed Elya's shoulders firmly. “Don't ever say something like that again, do you understand!”

Ashamed and frightened, Elya lowered his gaze. Elrond immediately calmed down at the sight. Gently, he cupped Elya's cheek, and turned his head around to face him. Hesitantly, the younger elf finally looked up, and met Elrond's gentle smile.

“You are part of my family. I lost so many of my family. Gaining someone for a change is a blessing of the Valar.”

Elya nodded, gradually convinced by Elrond's argument. 

“Well then. Are you ready to tell the others?”

“What...” Elya bit his lower lip. “What if they won't accept me?”

“Don't worry about that,” Elrond reassured him. “You're already a part of this family. That we are connected by blood as well just confirms what everyone here knows.” He placed a gentle hand on Elya's cheek once more. “That you are a part of us.”

New tears gatherer in Elya's eyes, but he didn't brush them away. Smiling, he nodded eventually. 

“Then let's go.”

“Ada, what happened?” Elladan asked outrightly when he, Elrohir and Arwen stepped into Elrond's office after they had been summoned there. Haldir, Erestor and Glorfindel where present as well. As was Elya which confused the siblings even more.

“Please sit down,” Elrond asked his children. 

Mutely, they obeyed their father because all three of them noticed how agitated he was. Concerned, their gazes flitted from their former tutors to their new stepfather. But the three older elfs looked clueless as well.

“Something wonderful has happened,” Elrond explained, and squeezed Elya's shoulder who stood next to the older half-elf a little shy but looking equally as upset. “We discovered that Elya's father was one of Elros' descendants, and therefore belongs to our family,” Elrond heralded without straightforward, his voice trembling with excitement. 

During the next few seconds, a pin being dropped could have been heard in the room.

“Is... is it true?“ Arwen breathed. „He is related to Elros? He is our... cousin?“

“Around a few corners, but yes,” Elrond confirmed.

“That's a surprise,” Glorfindel commented perplexed, but with a smile.

“It really is,” Elrohir continued. “But a fantastic one.” He smiled at Elya reassuringly who, encouraged by the positive reaction of Elrond's children, lost a little of his shyness and insecurity. 

“I knew that he seemed familiar,” Erestor mumbled with something akin to self-satisfaction in his voice.

“Yes,” Haldir agreed. “It's the eyes. How didn't we notice this earlier.”

Glorfindel nodded ardently. “Is there no way to find out to which house exactly he belongs?”

“I'm afraid not,” Elrond explained with a sigh, and turned towards Elya. “Most of my brother's descendants don't want to have anything to do with us since they, although blessed with a longer life than normal humans thanks to Elros' blood, are envious of our immortality. There are only a few who have kept on friendly terms with us.” 

“That's of no importance,” Elya assured, and looked from one elf to the other. “My mother would have taken me to my father's family if she or myself would have been welcome there, but obviously, we weren't. But... I have found my place here, with you.” He smiled at Elrond who returned the smile. “That's all that counts.”

The other Elves nodded, and Elrond was glad that Elya seemed to have taken his earlier words to heart. Nodding, he put his hand on the young elf's shoulder who basked in the acceptance and love the other Elves showed him, visibly thriving.

Elrond followed Elya's happy gaze which was turned onto his family. At last, they had both come home.

**End**


End file.
